A Beautiful Mess
by thelittlewritergirl
Summary: Steph has a secret. When her past catches up to her, can she overcome it? Will she allow herself to love and be loved? A tart story, but Morelli and Manoso are mostly unharmed. A bit OOC- spoilers books 1-18
1. Prologue 1

So, this is my very first attempt at fan fiction. Really, it's my first attempt at writing any sort of unassigned fiction of any sort.

I'm a 30-year old returning college student and am a married mother of two. I've written some professionally for a small non-profit organization in my past, but have always dreamed of writing that great American novel. For now though, I'll settle for writing fan fiction about those lovely characters in one of my most favorite book series.

This story is planned to have a bit of everything: some angst, humor, romance, etc. I've written ahead, but not too far, as I'd like to get a feel for any sort of feedback. I know where I'm going but am not 100% certain which routes I'll take along the way.

It's probably a little prologue heavy, but what can I say? I must obey my muse. It's all her fault.

This story will not be a Cupcake, nor will it likely be a Babe. Most likely, it will be a tart, and I am pretty certain whom Steph will end up with. But as I haven't written that part yet, I don't want to box myself in.

This story is definitely rated M for many reasons, not least of which will be language, smut and some violence, though I will try to avoid graphic violence.

Please, if you will, review and let me know what you think. I am new at this so your reviews can only help me grow as a writer. I am new to this whole process!

And of course, they're not mine and I'm not earning a penny.

Prologue – Part I

I've always thought the sunrise here, from this very spot, had to be the most magnificent view in the entire world. Granted, I've led a relatively sheltered life and I certainly haven't been _everywhere_.

Still – the sentiment remains.

I watched in earnest as the sun began its slow assent in the clear, black sky. It was quiet, though not eerily so. It was a pleasant quiet that inspired introspection. As the sun began to paint the sky in glorious blues, pinks and yellows, I became completely immersed in my thoughts, as only I can.

To date, I have not made much of my life. I am thirty-one years old, working as a bond enforcement agent, a job in which I'd earned by blackmailing my sleazy cousin, Vinnie. While I know I actually have a great capture rate (94%, thankyouverymuch), I know in my heart that I am not actually very good at my job. This is my fault - my lack of personal success. If I were honest with myself, I have not tried exceptionally hard to better myself. Not in recent years, and if I really considered my past actions and decisions, not really ever, save for a tiny blip in time.

Why this introspection today, you ask? Well, it is November 10, after all. The day that I commonly think of as the day Stephanie Plum, innocent intergalactic space princess died. Exactly eleven years ago, it was the day that I lost myself. Far more accurately, I was stolen –from myself – by none other than my devastatingly handsome boyfriend's cousin, Shawn Jacobson.

The memories clouded my vision. Fall semester midterms were officially on the books. I was carrying my usual 18-credit course load and breezing through the semester. I was just 20 years old at the time. I was technically a sophomore in years, maybe, but a junior if you went by my earned credits. I was an International Studies major, with grand plans to change the world.

I was on track to graduate in three years – perhaps just five semesters if I'd played my cards right. I'd planned on going to go to law school. I was blazing a trail that no Plum had traveled before, especially a woman. I was going to become the president of the fucking United States of America. For the very first time in my life, I excelled at something; I put forth _my_ _everything_ into proving to myself that I could become more than _The Burg._ I, Stephanie Plum, was the top student in Princeton University's Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs. Watch out world, here I come!

I sighed deeply and let the recollections settle down all around me. I'd been so proud, _so God damn proud_ of myself. I remember when I told my family the news of my acceptance to Princeton that fateful Easter. Despite my melancholy mood, I couldn't help it when a small giggle slipped out. I'd never seen my mother so drunk in my life. Sure, probably it paled in comparison to any one of her reactions of late when I've gone and blown something up, but as it was the time I'd witnessed it, it was a surprise. My gosh, was my mother _horrified_! Here, her daughter gets accepted into an Ivy-league school and she was ashamed. That's the Burg for you though, I guess. Un-_fucking_-believable.

To this day, I still can't get a read on my dad's reaction that day. He immediately slipped on his own version of a blank-face. The military must really breed that into you – _assholes_. He had offered me an awkward hug and told me to "go get'em". Whatever that means. My older sister, St. Valerie, had recently been married and had moved to San Diego. At least I was spared her reaction. Grandma Mazur? Bless her, she had whooped and hollered and had called all of her friends. She congratulated me, hugged me, and graced me with a giant smackeroo on my right cheek. She'd even started to make silly, outrageous plans to move in with me on campus. She was going to bag herself "a nice, firm young one with a nice package and bright future". I sighed. Oh, Grandma – how I love you so. You're the only one who has been of constant support throughout my life.

On that fateful day, November 10, I had spent the entire day on the Princeton campus, reveling in the beauty of the day and overcome with anticipation for the upcoming holidays. It was the only time I really allowed myself a little R&R. I'd spent the morning enjoying the lectures of some of the most brilliant minds in my future field. The day had been stunningly _gorgeous_, and at the time I'd felt like it was foretelling of my bright future. I bit back a sigh. How naïve I'd been! The sky had been a bright, radiant blue with a smattering of delicate, white puffy clouds strewn about. It had been nearing an unseasonably warm 70 degrees or so that day, and the campus had been so unnaturally _green._

I remember wondering just how much they spent on the landscaping each year? Surely, it had been more than my parents' annual household income. The lawn and the wildflowers and the trees almost took on a surreal quality. The colors were exceptionally vivid – the reds and oranges and yellows – and there wasn't a single weed in sight. I wonder - if I went there today, would it still look the same?

I shuddered at that thought. No, it was probably best to leave well enough alone. I sat there, unable to stop my mind from its slow video playback of that fateful day. While I'd been lazing in the courtyard, enjoying a light lunch, Shawn had slipped in the vacant seat to my left. Shawn was a senior at Princeton. He was a pre-med student and had recently been accepted to Harvard Medical School. I knew this because he was my boyfriend MJ's cousin.

MJ was a junior at Princeton with me. He'd been a year older than me, but we shared many of the same classes. Our relationship had built slowly over the course of the previous year. The only previous "dating" experience I really had was my "Tasty Pastry" incident with none other than Joe Morelli and a smattering of "first-dates".

See, once I'd gotten onto campus and away from the Burg, I dove headfirst into my studies. I'd stayed much to myself - I didn't do the frat party scene. The mere thought of joining a sorority honestly terrified me, and I really wasn't interested in dating. At that time, I was pretty sure that all the boys wanted was to get into my pants. Really, I wasn't far off base; I took a moment to remind myself that most of the thirty-something men I knew really weren't all that different today. Do boys ever really grow up?

I digress. So, MJ and I had been officially dating for nearly a year. I was completely, irrevocably in love with that man. We'd both planned on attending law school upon graduation and making a big splash out there. We'd planned a future filled with wedding bells, parties hobnobbing on Capitol Hill and immersion into the DC political scene. We were definitely well matched in both temperament and in bed. He'd been my very best friend – my everything. Wow, the things that boy could do to my body.

Let us say it was a great thing that he'd had his own place off campus.

Ahem.

I'd liked his family, and I'd hidden him well from mine. We'd worked together part-time on the presidential campaign that year and saw each other most days. More than just my boyfriend, he'd been my confidant, a source of endless support, and one of my only friends on campus. I'd been on such a warpath to success that I'd alienated many of my classmates. Nobody likes the person that carries the curve.

So, when Shawn sat with me at lunch that horrifying day, I'd been pleasantly surprised; I'd thought he'd be busy getting a jump on studying for finals. I'd been feeling a bit lonely; MJ had spent the previous ten days in Madrid participating in one of our school's study abroad programs and he wasn't due home for another week.

While I'd known that it was likely that MJ had asked Shawn to look out for me, I'd been flattered that he'd sought me out nonetheless.

Naturally, when Shawn asked me to join him and some of his friends at a "get-together" at his place after dinner, I'd uncharacteristically jumped at the chance to do some socializing. When I'd finished lunch, Shawn spent the late afternoon walking me around the grounds, pointing out the various buildings in the area and sharing some funny stories about the things he'd witnessed over the previous three years.

Strangely, a couple of times it had felt like he was going to hold my hand. I'd carefully move my hand away. I remember thinking it was a little strange, but I had felt so comfortable with him that I didn't overanalyze it. He was my friend, and MJ's cousin. He walked me to my dorm so I could get ready for the get-together.

After scarfing down a quick peanut butter and olive sandwich for dinner, I'd showered, changed and headed out toward the address Shawn had provided me with. It was only about four blocks away from my dorm, and as I approached I was surprised to find the house so, well, LOUD. I had honestly been expecting to find maybe a few guys there, watching a game. Not a full-blown frat party in progress.

More than just a little confused, I'd made my way inside and I was immediately overwhelmed. Shawn was easily found, and had the decency to actually seem embarrassed; I'd turned to leave, but he'd begged me to stay, to forgive him.

"Steph, please!" he'd cried. "I am so very sorry. I asked my roommate to pull together a couple of the lower classmen for you to meet and I never once expected this. It has gotten way out of hand. Please forgive me. Give them a chance - most of them here are nice guys. A little wild, sure, but you can still get to know them," he'd pleaded.

"Shawn, I don't think these are the type of people I _want _to get to know. I should go. This really isn't my scene," I replied, turning to leave.

Shawn had looked so defeated; I couldn't help having felt a little sorry for him. Like a little puppy that had acci-purposely chewed its owner's shoes.

Right then, as I'd started to warm up just a bit, he'd laid on the charm. "Steph, sweetie, it's getting late and nearing curfew in your building. Why don't you let loose for once and go with the flow? Have a beer, relax, and later, you can crash in my room. You should let off some of that steam you've built up and celebrate yourself. You're fucking top of your class at _Princeton_, gorgeous. Few people can say that. Why don't you just take a moment to revel in your success, angel?"

At that, I'd caved. Shawn grabbed me a beer and we'd made our way down to the shared basement where many of the others were hanging out. There was a full-sized pool table, several dartboards, and what I'd imagined was a dance floor. Like a mini tavern, right there in their basement. Maybe … maybe that should have been my first clue that not all was what it seemed.

I'd drank that first beer, and then another. I had been easily on my way to being drunk for the first time in my sheltered life. I'd played a couple of the guys in darts, played against Shawn in pool, and spent the better part of an hour shaking my tail feather on the improvised dance floor. By beer #3, Shawn had sidled up next to me on the dance floor and, surprisingly, started to get a little grabby. But, oh boy, could that man dance!

When his hands skimmed my body, I was thoroughly shocked to find that I'd felt like I'd been set ablaze. _This is MJ's cousin_, I'd had to remind myself. _You love MJ. Sweet MJ, with his wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes. MJ, Steph. Think of MJ. _

Just as I nearly came to my senses, Shawn leaned in to kiss me, and God help me, I'd kissed him back. Wholly. I am pretty sure I'd attacked him with my tongue, and within minutes, what we'd been doing on that dance floor was verging on X-rated. I'd felt _so_ fucking _good_. His touch had been magical, and as he slowly kissed me along my jawline, to my ear, and slowly, so very slowly, down my sensitive neck, I came. Right there, on that dance floor. All I was capable of thinking was "wow!" Well, that and, "more!"

Shawn had then lifted me, grabbing me in one swift motion from behind my thighs and wrapping my legs around his waist. My dripping-wet pussy rubbed had against his rock-hard cock, and he carried me upstairs to his bedroom. I thought his very _essence_ was enchanted, and God help me, I hadn't been able to stop touching him. His skin was soft as silk and it tasted like salted caramel. Sweet and salty. I was a moth and he'd been my flame.

God, I'd been putty in his hands.

Of course, we'd had sex - three times - in surprisingly quick succession. I couldn't get enough of him. I had never felt that way before, and to be honest, I haven't quite felt that way since. After our second time, he'd tied me up with his belt. That frozen moment had felt so damn exhilarating. _You're sure banishing that Burg girl forever, Stephanie, _I remember thinking.

Following our third and final time together, I'd started to lose my buzz. I began to feel exhausted and confused. My thoughts had been about clear as mud and I was ready to go home and get my head on straight. I tried to get up, but I'd been severely lacking in coordination.

I clearly remember the _dishonor_ I'd felt at that moment; I remembered the questions that ran rampant through my mind. What the hell? What just happened? What did I do? And how could I have done this to MJ? What will MJ think?

I can't lose MJ – my everything.

Tears began to fall down my face in earnest, as I sat and watched the sunrise and remembered what came next.


	2. Prologue 2

See Ch1 for disclaimers.

Previously:

_Tears began to fall down my face in earnest, as I sat and watched the sunrise and remembered what came next. _

~LSLSLSLSLSLSLSLS~

I'd turned in the bed to face Shawn, as I was now bordering on hysteria. _Why can't I move? How am I going to explain this to MJ_, I'd wondered? I had felt so terrified and ashamed of myself, and I sought comfort in MJ's elder cousin - only Shawn was no longer in bed.

Several moments later, they'd all filed in. Then, they fucked me. Each one of them, six of them in total, I think. I'd tried my best to get away, but I was restrained and uncoordinated and they were so strong.

I don't know their names, but by God, they'd sure each taken their turn. My restraints still in place, a gag placed over my mouth, they'd all fucked me from behind.

I never once saw their faces, but, to this day, I still dream of their voices.

I'd been raped; sodomized.

Broken.

I'd awoken the next morning with a start. I was alone (thank God for that) and haphazardly dressed, sleeping on a bench on campus. Students were milling about; a small group of them were relaxing in the courtyard to my left.

They were laughing, pointing at me.

In that instant, I remembered. The events of the previous night came back in vivid Technicolor. Seconds later, the pain had followed.

I'd hurt in places I wasn't previously aware could sense pain.

The memory was so rich; it was as if I was still there. I remembered the humiliation I'd felt. How I'd watched, slowly, the proceedings of the evening before as they returned to my consciousness. Looking down, I'd noticed I was clad only in a tank top and a pair of men's boxers. I sat up, despite the clanging in my head, the aching throughout my body, and walked to my dorm room with my face pointed toward the ground.

I'd prayed the entire walk that no one would speak a word to me.

Once I'd made it to the building, I entered it cautiously. I didn't want an audience; I'd been feeling shameful enough on my own. I grabbed my belongings, made it to the communal shower, and slowly washed the evidence of the night away.

I've still never spoken of any details of that night. Not to anyone. When I'd finished showering, I'd walked my way back to my room. I shut the door, locked it, slid to the floor and sobbed.

A new me had been born that day.

I didn't leave my room for nearly two weeks.

I didn't fail that semester. Thankfully, I'd had high enough marks the rest of the term that I'd still pulled A-'s to B+'s in most of my classes. But my drive to succeed was gone. I no longer wanted to be somebody special. I wanted to blend in, be "one of them".

I remained on campus for winter break that year. I told my parents I was taking Winterim classes. In reality, I was hiding while I figured out my next steps.

After missing two periods in succession, I discovered that I was pregnant. I was disease-free, thank God, but that night changed me in even more ways that I'd thought – I was having a baby.

I was terrified and alone.

After several weeks of agony and indecision, I'd visited St. Matthew's and spoken to Father Donovan. I'd never discussed the whys, but I'm fairly certain he'd guessed.

It only took a few moments – really there'd never been any other option. I'd almost instantly decided that I was going to have the baby.

I would have the baby, but place it up for adoption. Father Donovan put me in contact with one of the parish families. They had apparently been looking to adopt for quite some time.

They were sweet, in their 30's, and had been married for six years. He'd beaten cancer as a child against all odds, but was unfortunately left sterile. They were warm and kind, and treated me with a gentleness I'd never before experienced. I'd felt like my baby belonged with them.

That spring semester, I'd told my parents that I'd lost my funding for my scholarship at Princeton and had decided to go backpacking through Europe with some friends.

They'd accepted that rather easily. Eerie, I'd say. My mother had been thrilled with my "change of heart". She finally saw hope of me becoming a Burg woman yet.

I became a mother on July 29 of that year. I'd remained a mother for a total of forty-three hours before handing my little boy off to the Hunters. With free-flowing tears, I'd nursed him a final time, placed one last kiss to his downy blond hair, and handed him over to his forever mother.

There's no official record of me giving birth. I didn't want anyone to know. The Hunter's were footing the hospital bills, so when I'd refused to supply officially identification they didn't fight me too hard.

Baby Brian Matthew was officially borne to Michelle E. Plumerri before being adopted two days later by Emily and Daniel Hunter.

It had nearly killed me – the pain was beyond anything I'd formerly felt. While my little boy had certainly been a painful reminder of that terrible event, his beauty and innocence had captivated me from the moment he'd been placed into my arms.

He was innocence personified and I'd loved him, carried him for nine long months. He'd been my reason to live, to face each day, to find a way to begin to heal.

Weeks later, the fall semester had begun. I'd transferred to Montclair State and switched my major from International Studies to Business Administration. You can't get much more vanilla than that. Anyway, I'd graduated 'on time' with just-average marks.

Just like a proper Burg girl.

~LSLSLSLSLSLSLSLS~

So, what ever happened with MJ, you ask? Yeah, it would seem that Shawn called him the very next morning after the "incident" and explained how after just one beer I'd come on to him, then spent the night in his bed. Seeing as I didn't answer my phone the entire time I'd been in my self-imposed exile, MJ had taken it as admission of guilt. The one time I'd seen him on campus, he'd refused to speak even one word to me. He'd turned and walked the other way.

I'd felt so heartbroken. Lost. I'd been certain he was the love of my life.

Then, on all accounts, he'd disappeared off the face of the earth. Taking my heart with him.

Anyway, moving on…

I didn't date. Not for a long time. When I finally attempted to, I just couldn't get close to anyone.

Close meaning close enough to have any sort of sexual relationship with them, naturally. I'd tried, I really did.

Six years after I'd the rape, I'd finally caved. When I was 26, my mother had finally annoyed me into submission and I married Dickie, a friend of a family friend. Dear, dickface Dickie. While I can freely admit that he was an ass for cheating on me with Joyce, I have to confess my own guilt. I'd refused to sleep with him during our short courtship.

Poor sap had thought it was cute; he loved the idea of me as his virginal bride-to-be.

Probably, he'd jerked off to the idea of being my first.

We'd dated five months before we were engaged, and then we'd rushed the engagement. I'd only known him a total of nine months when we were married. On our wedding night, I'd gotten myself completely tanked in hopes that I'd be able to execute my duties as a new bride. When we'd reached our bridal suite at the local Marriott, I couldn't perform, and I didn't.

I had well and truly freaked the fuck out. Dickie was pissed, and Dickie was clueless. Instead of waiting for an explanation, pretty much he ran off and fucked the first thing he could. I'd caught them on our kitchen table the very next afternoon. I was pissed.

It had sucked to move my things in and then move out again in the course of just one week!

I can forgive Dickie. I don't think I'll ever admit to that out loud, of course – that much is a given. He's a douche, but at the same I hadn't been honest with him, and frankly, I hadn't loved him. But I can't forgive her.

I hope the bitch chokes on the next dick she sucks.

Anyway – onward and upward.

Or, at least onward, anyway…

A couple of years after the Dickie debacle, I lost my job at EE Martin - stupid pricks and their stupid unethical business practices.

Shortly after that, I lost my sexy little car. I started driving Big Blue and started working for Vinnie as a BEA and, despite everything - I've earned my 94% capture rate getting those bad guys off the streets.

If I were truthful with myself, I think I'd find that my job has helped me in more ways that I'd every be able to fully articulate. It feels damn good to lock those motherfuckers up.

I've healed some over the years. I've skimmed over a few self-help books and I've even managed to have sex again. That it was with my very first FTA is beside the point, but I think having already been with Morelli had helped me do the deed (hey – he'd been exonerated by then, get a grip!).

Joseph Morelli had stolen my virginity when I was 16, probably making him uniquely qualified to help me get my mojo back; I'd known what to expect from him. Joe was safe.

Joe and I had enjoyed (?) a long-term on-again off-again relationship that had lasted about three years. We just recently went off again. It's likely a permanent sort of off-again, as I'd accidentally offended his mom and Grandma Bella in his presence. While the actual offending was accidental in nature, it was no less true and I'd refused to apologize for it. But, that's a story for another day. Just know I have an uncanny ability to speak my private thoughts aloud on occasion.

I miss my friendship with Joe, but have since rationalized that my big, uncooperative mouth did me a giant favor. While I love Joe, I was not and am not in love with him. I am not certain that I ever was. We want different things from life and neither of us are able to compromise. Not enough, anyway. While I may no longer be the same person I'd been before that first November 10, I have accepted that I can still never settle for the typical Burg marriage. My wings may have been clipped, but they still exist.

Pulling myself out of my silent reverie, I notice the sun has fully risen, and that I am no longer crying.


	3. Chapter 1

I have to say, I'm excited to have received my first few reviews. Thanks so much for taking a moment to share your thoughts with me.

I promise, we'll eventually get to the happy (in fact, I wrote some just yesterday!), but this is definitely a bit of a journey for Steph.

I am not sure what type of update schedule I'll employ – I am a full-time college student, so I am sure real-life will get in the way of any sort of prescribed schedule. I think for now, I'll just say my goal is to update 2-3 times per week, but I'll probably update a little more frequently in the beginning in order to get the story rolling.

OK – my muse says enough babbling already - lets get on with it.

Previously:

_Pulling myself out of my silent reverie, I notice the sun has fully risen, and that I am no longer crying._

~LSLSLSLSLSLSLSLS~

Taking several deep breaths, I glanced along the coast, taking the moment to simply enjoy my personal slice of heaven. The sky was slowly becoming overcast, and the temperature was quickly dropping; it was going to be a chilly day.

With a resigned sigh, I acquiesced that I was going to need to head back to my room soon or I'd be late getting back to Vinnie's. The skips won't catch themselves, you know.

The boardwalk still appeared to be mostly empty, save for a few early-morning runners. How they do that, I'll never know; that's some dedication right there. I can't imagine running for pleasure – to me, it's sheer torture.

At that thought, my stomach began to rumble and I remembered that I hadn't eaten since lunchtime the day before.

I stood, mindful of the rocky terrain. I've always loved the cliffs here. Sure, they weren't overly tall, but they were elevated just enough to provide a breathtaking view of Seaside Heights. I slid on my tennis shoes, making my way down the cliff side as I've done so many times before. I needed to get home before my absence was noted. I didn't feel like offering explanations to the girls or a Rangeman search party.

Not today, anyway.

I made my way to my motel, showered, changed, and then finally scarfed down three Tastykakes to soothe the beast. I checked myself in the mirror and approved of my reflection. I was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a light blue sweater. I gathered my hair into a messy bun on the nape of my neck, allowing a few curly tendrils to settle near my face. I buckled on my black 3" heels and swiftly made way to gather the rest of my belongings.

As I do each and every year, I checked out of the motel and settled my bill in cash. I grabbed a watered-down coffee to go from the lobby, ducked out to the parking lot and climbed into my POS 2001 Chevy Cavalier.

Hey, don't poke fun - it has relatively few miles and a minimal amount of rust. I'd gotten a fairly decent price on it, and what can I say? It was blue to match my eyes.

I took a moment to give silent thanks to the car gods. They must be smiling down on me lately, as so far my little, dingy car has lasted me seven months. This is a recent record, to be sure.

I think my wretched little car loves me.

I was jamming to Metallica, trying to stay awake and the next thing I knew, I was merging onto I-195. As I neared my hometown of Trenton, NJ, I figured it was finally safe to begin to turn on my cell phone and trackers.

A little over a year ago, Ranger and I finally came to an agreement of sorts. I would allow him to inundate me with enough trackers to be picked up from Mars, but he had to allow me to occasionally ditch them. Our agreement was simple: As long as I had not recently picked up any crazies or stalkers and informed him of my impending departure, I would be granted up to 24 hours without any sort of surveillance or contact. The agreement was working out pretty well thus far.

Both of us have even remained mostly sane.

Ranger. I smiled as my brain conjured up his face at that thought. While I most certainly have not become the president of our fine country, I surely felt I was protected as well as him. A strange bit of irony, to be sure.

While deep down I hated the constant supervision, I knew it wasn't Ranger I was frustrated with per se; it was that it was necessary to begin with. I hated losing that portion of my independence – and it was a very hard-earned independence I must say. Deep down, I was able to appreciate his display of affection and devotion. He couldn't offer me a relationship, but he could offer me his unending protection. For now, I'd accept it. He loved me, in his own way. The only way he knew how.

With a start, I realized I had pulled into my parking lot and had slipped my car in my usual spot. Hmmm.

Maybe I'll just skip the Bonds office today.

I'll call Connie in a few and make sure that nothing urgent has come in. I took a deep, cleansing breath, stretched my arms, and exited the car, making my way to my building. Today was Saturday.

On Monday, I had a meeting with Ranger scheduled, and I had a lot to ponder before then. I'd better get to it.

I was finished living in denial land.

Mostly.

~LSLSLSLSLSLSLSLS~

_Nine days later…_

_Oh, shit_ was my first thought upon waking Monday morning. _What in the heck was I thinking, anyway?_ I stole a glance at the clock, certain that there was no way it was already 5am. With a groan, I rolled out of my queen-sized bed and dragged myself to my closet. Having slept in one of the t-shirts I'd stolen from Ranger, I simply slipped on a pink and black pair of Adidas running shorts and laced up my new running shoes.

Yes, running shoes.

_Sigh_.

Still groggy, I finger-combed my hair and slipped it into a ponytail as I walked to the bathroom. I answered nature's call and had just finished brushing my teeth when I heard my locks tumble.

"Morning, Bombshell," Bobby sang from my foyer. "Better hurry, or we'll leave without you!"

I growled as I exited my bathroom. Bobby just stood there and smiled. "It should be illegal to be so damned happy in the morning, Bobby, " I complained.

"I'm just happy to see our favorite new Range_Woman_ this morning! Honestly, though Steph, I take it as a personal complement that you're already awake. I truly thought I'd have to drag you out of bed…

And I don't think that'd be nearly as much fun as if I were to drag you _into_ it," Bobby dryly concluded with a seductive little smile.

"Hardy-har-har. You're a funny man today, I see. Anyway, I am pretty sure I am the only Rangewoman, or it wouldn't have taken the company attorney three days to draft up a contract for me," I said as I approached the door.

Bobby just smirked as held the door open for me. We made our way into the hallway and I stubbornly stopped at the elevator.

He gave me an exasperated look, grabbed my arm, and pulled me to the stairwell. "Not on my watch - no way. For Christ's sake, Bombshell, it's only two flights of stairs!" he cried.

"If it's only two flights, then why is it important that I take the stairs?" I asked.

Bobby mumbled something under his breath that I couldn't quite make out, but he wisely did not comment further. I let it go. _For now_. After all, by this point I was already to the bottom of the stairwell, anyway. We joined the rest of the group in the parking lot.

And holy fucking hell - what a group they were! It was all I could do not to drool as I took in my running mates, each sporting their early morning bedhead and a fine sheen of sweat. Obviously, they'd run here to pick me up and, my God, were they delicious.

Christ, there goes my panties, already, and the sun isn't even up yet.

This morning, I had Bobby, Vince, Hal and Zero all to myself. It's like they're my very own personal collection of fitness trainers. I'd be flattered with their apparent undivided attention if it weren't obvious that they had all convened over the weekend and plotted my untimely demise. Death by running. Certainly, I would not be their first victim.

I'm sure of it.

Bobby spoke quickly, "Steph, we'll start out today with jogging three miles. You'll be running five days per week, and each week we'll be adding half a mile to your total. Your goal, as defined in our meeting last week, will be to log a total of seven miles per session. Whether you complete them outdoors or on a treadmill at the office will be at your discretion. For today, you get us, outdoors. Anytime in the future you plan to run from home, you should call me, and one of us will be here to run with you. We always run in pairs - never alone. I'm proud of you for choosing this, Bomber, but it won't be easy."

Gulp. Don't I know it? Lordy, I was beginning to sweat and I hadn't even starting jogging yet. For a split second I considered reneging on my deal, but then I remembered that I'd been foolish enough to sign my life away to Rangeman just last Thursday.

In doing so, I'd agreed to a complete body overhaul. Hell, a life overhaul.

I remembered my silent promise to myself. I would no longer be a victim. It might kill me, but damn it, I was going to get good at something again.

I took a deep, cleansing breath and pushed off, following my guys, a new determination settling into my soul. I may not live through the entire training program Bobby has developed, but I sure as hell was going to live through day one.

After all, I have my first meeting with my psychiatrist scheduled for this evening.


	4. Chapter 2

It is now 9am and the start of my first official workday at Rangeman. I've managed to survive my morning run with the guys and I now sat in my 8x8 standard-issue cubicle reviewing my schedule for the week.

Ranger had decided that, as a regular full-time employee, I would need to spend some time with each of the guys to get familiar with their specialty. Once I'd completed the brief introduction, I would be formally trained in the area in which I excelled in most. This would also help to determine my future partner, as I'll eventually be partnered with someone who complemented my skills on some level.

No longer will I be simply tied to my desk, running searches all day. Thank God for small miracles.

Ranger was not going to train me at all – we'd decided that with our 'non-relationship', things might have the ability to get awkward pretty quickly. He would instead spend time filling me in on the scope of the company and the management strategies he employed. Tank would be going over the necessary paperwork I'd need to complete and was responsible for designing and implementing my training schedule.

Joy.

As to the others, Bobby would train me on how to administer first aid in the field and as I mentioned before, he'd be overseeing my physical training. Vince would be training me in some basic hand-to-hand combat twice per week, in addition to teaching me some self-defense. Devil (I am not sure I want to know?) and Lester will be assisting him. Apparently, they're some kind of geniuses when it comes to hand-to-hand combat. While I am thankful, I admit I am just a bit nervous.

Cal would be working with Ram and Hal, training me in common Rangeman weaponry. Hector, Manny and Junior would be training me in B&E and acquainting me with much of our electronics. Zip and Zero would be teaching me defensive driving and Binkie would apparently be the "god of fun" one afternoon per week.

I didn't have the courage to ask exactly what that meant.

The rest of the guys would fill in wherever it was deemed necessary. I would spend some amount of time with each and every guy.

Apparently, my being the first full-time female field employee here at Rangeman is a significant feat. Ranger is covering all of the bases.

I read through the listing several times over, surprised to find that Lester didn't appear much. While I can reason that I didn't know Lester all that well –he is a Merry Man, after all - unquestionably I knew him better than the rest of the other guys. As Ranger's 3rd in command, certainly, he had a lot of expertise.

But come to think of it, I really haven't seen him around a whole lot lately.

…

Silently, I approached my Babe's cubicle. I had to admit, she was absolutely adorable in her Rangeman uniform; she looked like a miniature version of myself. She was wearing a pair of black cargo pants and a tight, long-sleeved black V-neck shirt with my name across her left breast. Her hair was gathered in a low ponytail and her S&W was clearly visible - tucked into her waistband at the small of her back.

She must meet with Cal in the range first today.

It was all I could do to remain in control of my body's response to seeing her bent over her desk, reviewing her training schedule. It would suit me well to remember the long discussion we'd had, just last week.

"Babe," I said, and immediately restrained a chuckle when she leapt a good four inches off the ground. This was fun.

"Jesus, Ranger! Would it kill you to make some noise?" she asked. "You freaking scared the daylights out of me." He placed her right hand over her heart.

I couldn't help it when a chuckle slipped out. "You should be more aware of your surroundings," the well-used reply slipped out before I could stop it. She glared at me with what I think she refers to as her 'death glare'.

Thankfully, I'm apparently immune.

"I just wanted to say good morning, Babe, and to let you know that I'm here most of the day should you have any questions."

"Why isn't Lester listed much?" She asked, curious, pointing to her training schedule.

I took a moment and considered my reply. I settled with, "You'd have to ask him." Not my place to share, even if I'd wanted to.

"Is he in today?" she asked.

"No, he's off for the next few days."

She let out a dissatisfied noise, then plopped down in her chair, booting up her laptop. "That would make it difficult to ask him. Anyway, I'm supposed to meet Cal in the range in an hour. I thought that for now I'd run a few searches, unless there's something else you'd rather I'd get started on?" she half asked, half stated.

"No. Good plan, Babe. Enjoy your first day." I restrained the urge to approach her and tuck an errant curl behind her ear. The compulsion was so strong that I had to put my hand in my pocket. Old habits.

I then added, "Friday night we'll need you for a distraction, if you're available." Steph turned her head to meet my gaze and offered me her best Burg eye roll. I must be getting the full treatment today. I suppressed a smile.

"Anything, Ranger, anytime. You know that. What time? How should I dress?"

"I'll pick you up at 2100 hours. Dress … more sexy than slutty. White collar skip."

"And that translates to what in ordinary people time, Ranger?"

"9pm," I replied with a small smirk. With that, I turned on my heels and made my way to my office. Dios, it was going to be some new kind of hell seeing her every day and being unable to touch her.

...

Strangely energized, I loaded a full clip into the gun and aimed at my final target of the day. We were occupying lane four, and we'd been down here nearly two hours now. Cal was still standing behind me, making such minor corrections to my stance that I was certain I'd go crazy. Does it really matter if I move my left foot over by two centimeters? You have to admit that it's a little ridiculous and maybe just a smidgeon endearing that he seemed to think this was some sort of sniper 101 training.

Sure, I want to be effective, but I am pretty sure I'm not headed into military combat anytime soon. I hope.

At the moment, he had me shooting those circular targets with the bull's-eye in the center. Something about learning to fire a steady shot before attempting to learn how to incapacitate or kill people. I guess it made sense.

Mostly though, all I could really process was that my arms hurt. And that Cal was actually pretty damn hot. He had dark blond hair that was in need of a haircut - it just fell over his forehead, nearly covering his tattoo. My fingers begged to brush it away. _Would it feel as silky as it looked,_ I wondered? His eyes were dark, almost the exact color of milk chocolate; and his lips, they were full without being distractingly so. He'd make some woman very lucky some day.

Sweet Jesus. I've got to get a grip.

I finished emptying my clip and he recalled my final target of the day. Cal seemed pleasantly surprised. "Damn, Steph, I'd say you did damn fine for your first day out!" he exclaimed. I'd managed to hit the outside edge of the center once, seven rounds had pierced the next ring outward, one was in the following ring and only one bullet had gone a bit AWOL, marking the very edge of the paper target.

"Well, Cal, it wasn't my first time shooting a gun, you know." But I smiled, despite myself. "I said I don't like them, not that I suck at shooting them."

"No shit, Bomber," was his reply. "Lets sweep up these casings and then we'll move onto cleaning our weapons."

We made quick work of the cleanup and, despite my soreness, I was surprised at how much I really didn't mind the time spent in the range today. Cal was a patient tutor, and when he talked, he actually had a bit of a sense of humor. Huh.

I'd spent some time firing a couple of different types of guns (Cal selected some that were reportedly easier for women to handle) and I found that some of them were actually sort of fun to handle. I felt empowered, dangerous. And strangely, kinda turned on. What the hell?

After our training session was complete, I'd selected a back-up weapon for use. For now, I preferred my S&W, but as a secondary I choose a Taurus Millennium Pro 111. After all, we can order it in pink. I wonder if I could order pink bullets to match? That may be worth checking into. Might make my time spent down here even more enjoyable.

One successful training session complete.

Only about 199 more to go.

….

_1 month later…_

I am settling in nicely at Rangeman and my training is going surprisingly well. I have to say that I'm particularly enjoying the B&E and self-defense, though I still lack the patience necessary for surveillance. Somehow, I just don't think that will be my eventual specialty. In my boredom, my thoughts tend to wander and I easily miss the little things.

I've also spent some time assisting Tank with the paperwork end of things. My business degree has assisted us greatly there and I've been able to streamline a few of his processes – most of them being accounting-related. Thankfully, they've mostly been one-time projects.

I am so not a desk person.

The guys have mostly been great. Devil wasn't nearly as scary as his name had implied, and in fact with me - he'd been a total pussycat. After our third session together, Tank had to pull him from my training program; Devil had been so terrified to hurt me that we hadn't accomplished much in terms of learning. He is such a sweet guy. Please don't tell him I said so (probably that's not so good for his image). He was a good-looking guy, very well built, and was about 6'4". He had light brown hair and hazel eyes. His real name is Emmet. For a Merry Man, he's quite chatty. I was sad to see our training together end.

Binkie, the second youngest of the group at just 25, has been a ton of fun. Each week he'd set up different challenges for me off-campus. He continually found new ways to challenge me both mentally and physically without me really realizing it. So far, we'd gone rock-climbing, paint balling, rappelling, and have even played laser tag. Next week, he promised he'd take me out on a zip-line near Point Pleasant. I'm looking forward to it. My Binkie time is by far my favorite session of the week. If he wasn't careful, he'd quickly become my new favorite Merry Man.

That said; want to know my most surprising discovery thus far? It turns out, running actually isn't so bad! When you do it regularly, you feel less like you're going to die while doing it. In fact, I've taken to running seven days per week, not just my requisite five. I've still got some distance to add in order to fulfill Bobby's master plan, but I am getting there.

I've found that running helps to clear my head and centers me for my day. It's something I can easily control – my speed, distance and location. And I can do it whenever I want. No preparation necessary.

I began my morning run on the treadmill. Today was officially a day off for me, so I'd allowed myself the luxury of sleeping in this morning, Not surprisingly, I was getting a much later start than usual and it seemed I was alone at the moment in the Rangeman gym.

Turns out that I liked the quiet the best. Who knew?

The Rangeman gym is on the 3rd floor of the building, next to the range. It was fairly good-sized with all of the latest equipment. The walls were painted a gunmetal grey, and there were windows facing the street along the western-facing wall. The locker rooms and showers were along the northern wall. Ranger has invested a pretty penny into his gym. You can tell he has a passion for fitness.

Over the past month, Ranger and I have managed to develop a fantastic working relationship. Before I'd officially signed on to Rangeman full-time we'd agreed that whatever it was between us needed to stop.

While it was a bit difficult to come to terms with at first, I'd gotten with the program surprisingly easily. I've realized it's truly for the best. Sure, he's unbelievably gorgeous and our chemistry is off the charts, but to be honest, I've begun to enjoy the _knowing_. I _know_ he's unquestionably got my back. I _know_ he won't try to steal a kiss after the morning meeting. I _know_ I won't end up in his bed tonight. I _know,_ without question, he'll remain my best and closest friend and ally for the rest of my life.

I don't worry anymore if there's a Boston Babe or an Atlanta Babe, or if deep down I'm not good enough for him. I don't worry if we'll ever get our someday.

Sure, I'll probably always be a wee bit in love with him, but I have something far more important than I'd thought possible. I have an amazing, secure place in his life; a place in which no one else can ever fill. And he, in mine. And I love _knowing_ that.

Of course, my shrink has helped me though this, among other things. I've come to realize that I deserve a man who will love me wholly, someone who will respect who I am and the decisions I've made. And while I am still not sure if I ever want to remarry or bear more children, I deserve the chance to discover exactly what it is I want. I deserve a man who can provide what I need. Or most of what I need, anyway.

He has made me see that my rape was not my fault. While I'll always question my actions with Shawn that day, I am working toward forgiving myself. This whole time I'd thought I was some sort of slut, hopping into bed with Shawn. I think I'd felt like I'd deserved it – all of it; as if it was punishment rendered for my actions. Now, I'm starting to see it, as it likely was – that I was a very young woman who had gotten carried away. I'd been swept away in the moment. And it takes two.

What I still had the most trouble reconciling was how I'd be so careless with MJ's feelings. I haven't completely worked that out yet. No matter how you slice it, I'd truly been in love with him. I think I probably remained just a bit heartbroken. I don't get how I so easily threw that away. Sure I'd been drinking, but it still doesn't add up.

I keep waiting to feel anger, defeat. But mostly, I now feel numb when I think about it. I am not sure what that means. The dreams remain, sure, but they're becoming less frequent.

Doc says I'd suffered a severe trauma and that they'll probably never completely go away; I've got a ways to go to heal yet, but I am making slow progress.

I saw movement to my left. Ranger and Lester were getting ready to spar in the ring. I raised my right hand in a wave and Ranger offered a small head nod in response. Lester averted his gaze and pretended not to see me, just as he has for the past month.

I miss him, our easy camaraderie. Sure, I get along with the rest of the guys, but Les and I used to have such an easy rapport. He had such an easygoing sense of humor and often managed to get me in stitches. While our friendship had been purely superficial, we'd clicked.

Now, for some reason, he's been avoiding me. I swear it.

I wound down my run, and was distracted from my thoughts as things were really starting to get heated between the two men. They were starting to draw quite the crowd. Cool down complete, I glanced down at my machine and noticed I'd ran about five and a half miles. Sweet. Bobby would be thrilled with my progress.

Covered in a fine sheen of sweat, I joined the crowd of my coworkers. I have to say, they were beautiful to observe, Ranger and Lester. They were both good-looking Latino men, sure. But that's not really what I mean; they just were so graceful to watch. It was art form. Each of them stalked the other as if they were prey. Baiting, retreating, calculating- it was purely animalistic. Ranger had the aura of a tiger: strong, aggressive and cunning. Lester was more of a jaguar: quick, sleek and powerful. I was entranced; I couldn't look away.

They were evenly matched, yet not.

Someone gasped as Lester knocked the boss down in a complicated series of kicks and twists. It may have been me. Junior was keeping score: Lester 1 - Ranger 0.

After some time, Binkie finally broke the silence in the crowd. "So, Bomber, we were thinking. Since today marks one month since you came to your senses and joined us fine men here at Rangeman, we were wondering if you'd like to go out and celebrate with us?"

I pretended to weigh his offer carefully. "Depends. What have you got in mind, Binkie?" I asked; my eyes were still trained to the two fighting men.

"Well, we thought we'd hit up El Fuego tonight for some dinner and salsa dancing." Binkie smiled.

Shit, who am I kidding? Binkie was always smiling. I offered him a grin in return, my excitement quickly building. "Oh, hell yeah!"

The guys cheered, obviously looking forward to tonight as much as I was. You know what? I was ready to have some fun.

"We'll pick you up at 8:00 Steph?"

I couldn't help it; my anticipation got the better of me. I bounced up and down in delight. "Perfect, Binky. Now, I'm off to shower and hit the mall!" perched on my tiptoes and gave him a quick peck on his left cheek, turning to head toward the shower.

The guys groaned. Cal spoke up, "Steph, please, you're over sharing. We're men, and trust me when I say that we really don't need to envision you naked in the shower!"

I blushed, my face turning a fluorescent tomato red. Halting in my retreat, I glanced back over my shoulder, at Cal. I stammered, "Oh, gosh, I … Cal, I didn't mean…"

Embarrassed, I just let the sentence drop and dashed into my little dedicated locker room.

The boys' fight now long forgotten, I jumped into the shower, eager to get on with my day.

…

Two hours later, Lula and I stormed Quaker Bridge Mall. It had been far too long since I had seen my good friend. Since I joined Rangeman, she'd taken over the low bond skips up to $10,000 in addition to her 'filing'. Much to my irritation, Vinnie gave that skank bitch Joyce the skips in the $10,000 - $50,000 range, and Rangeman's contract was amended to take all bonds over that amount.

As part of our agreement, Ranger agreed to provide temporary back up for Lula as needed while I was in training. When my training was complete, I planned to probably pick up that role, on my own time. Because that's what friends do.

So far, things were working out. This compromise thing has really been going well for me.

We've already been at the mall for three hours, and I am getting impatient. Lula and I had just recently split up in order to conquer their massive dress department at Macy's. I picked my way through the sea of skankiness: black dresses, red dresses, short dresses, shorter dresses, blue dresses, green dresses, sequin dresses and printed dresses. So many freaking dresses.

I usually loved shopping. Today, it was getting on my nerves. Perhaps it's the lack of sugar.

Not to mention, my shower massager is on the fritz.

Finally. It's been about thirty minutes since our split and I've finally found the perfect dress for tonight. It was a strapless black tube dress with sequin stripe detailing down the center and rouching that surrounded the entire bodice. The sexy skirt was tightly fitted, but had these flirty, twisty strips of organza overlay that fell in gentle cascades and settled just about two inches above my knee. When I twirled, the fabric simply swirled out around me, like a cloud, while the underskirt covered all of my delicate bits. It was fun and flirty and exactly the look I was looking for. I even had the perfect pair of shoes to wear with it at home.

While I waited for Lula to find her ideal spandex creation, I continued to browse through the dresses. A woman can never have too many distraction dresses, right?

I'm pretty sure that's a saying.

Anyway, I grabbed a couple of 'potentials' and made my way back to the changing room, where I nearly ran smack-dab into Lula.

I would never, ever, in all of my life be able to fully control my reaction to spandex Lula. Each new outfit she wore warranted its own shock to my system, and each and every time I've needed some time to recover. And God, did I love her for it. I admired her confidence and sense of self. Lula was a woman who knew who she was and what she wanted.

Apparently, she'd found the one. It was a fuchsia-colored cap-sleeved spandex dress with a sweetheart neckline. It fell to about an inch below her ass and was at least two sizes too small. It had a pattern of large, bright purple and pink flowers throughout and a wide, silver belt at her waist.

It took all of my resolve to smile while I bit back my chuckle. This dress was Lula, personified. I hated it. I loved it. It was horrible. It was perfect.

Lula and I spent the remainder of the hour trying on a few random dresses for fun. We took turns picking out horrendously slutty or particularly horrifying dresses for each other. I'd picked out a 'proper' navy sheath of a dress for Lula to try on, and Lula had given me a slutty little number to model.

Lula and I could barely contain our laughter at the insanity that was Lula in that conservative polyester dress. When we'd finally managed to get ahold of ourselves, Lula turned her eyes to me and let out one hell of a shriek. The dress was very red, and very lacy.

"Skinny Ass White Girl, you'vegottobuythatdress! It was made for you! Hell, I'll buy it for you – I don't care if your poor ass can't afford it. But that dress is goin' home with you. Today!" Lula exclaimed.

"Lula! Calm down. Sure, it's a sexy little number, but where in the hell will I wear it? I look … Lula, I think I look like one of those pricey corporate call girls," I replied as I slowly spun in the triple mirror.

"Sure as shit you do, girlfriend. Like I said, it's a hell of a dress. Girl, you'll have all of the men within a hundred-mile radius of you knocking down your door just to get a piece."

I offered her a wry smile. "I am not sure that's my ultimate goal, Lula. I'd barely been able to handle Morelli."

"Sheeit, girl. That's EVERY woman's goal. At least it should be. What in the hell is wrong with you?"

Oh, Lula, if you only knew. I took another moment to consider my reflection. It did fit me perfectly, and the color really seemed to flatter my skin tone. My breasts even managed to look fuller than usual. I sighed. "OK, the dress comes. But we're done now – we're leaving. My bank account can't handle much more Lula today."

Lula offered me a 1,000-watt smile. We made our purchases and set off for home. I had some preparations to attend to, and the guys would be picking me up in a mere three hours.

I showered, shaved and exfoliated. I moisturized, buffed and polished. I lightly applied my make-up, giving my eyes a sultry sort of look. I slipped on my new little black dress and strapped on my black, 4" sandals. Four coats of mascara and a sheer lip-gloss application later, I once again heard my locks tumble. I checked my reflection a final time and made my way to my foyer.


	5. Chapter 3

Author's note: Thanks everyone for your reviews and patience. I hope some of your questions will be answered in the coming chapters.

This week will be especially busy for me as I have three separate exams. So, I am not sure how much I will be able to update between now and Thursday. I will be here in spirit, though. Probably I should be studying as we speak, but I wanted to get up at least one more piece.

This chapter gave me some trouble and I've rewritten it several times. I wanted to give Steph a good time and set a few things in motion for her. I also wanted to give a few hints about Les to those of you who asked. I hope I did the scene some justice and that you all enjoy it.

To those of you that celebrate it, Happy Easter! To those of you that do not, happy Sunday!

…

"Ranger!" I exclaimed, leaping into his arms.

"Babe." Ranger replied as he set me down on solid ground. His eyes ever so slowly surveyed my appearance. "You look …" He let the sentence die, blank face firmly in place.

"What? Is it ok? Should I change?" I asked.

"Yes. And no, most definitely, no. Babe, you look like sin."

I smiled and twirled for him. "I'm going to take that as a compliment, I think. What are you doing here?" I asked.

"We're all going out tonight, remember?"

At that, I probably grinned like a maniac. "Not that I'm at all disappointed, but I didn't realize you'd be coming, too?"

"Well, after Binkie went and sent out e-mail invitations to all of Rangeman, I decided to take the initiative and make it a mandatory event for all off-duty employees. You know, this is something to celebrate, Steph. You're an asset to our company, and we're proud of you for taking control of your life. Besides, even badasses can use an occasional night out."

Awww, if that isn't the sweetest thing.

I gave him a quick, innocent kiss on his cheek as thanks and grabbed my clutch. I bid farewell to Rex and we made our way out of the building. Of course, Ranger had brought his Turbo - my absolute favorite car. He smiled at me, a real smile, and handed me the keys.

Sigh. He'd really be the perfect guy for me…

….

A party of our size had relegated us to their private room for dinner, not that I'd complain. There were probably 30 or so of us total, scattered among 5 tables. At my table, I was seated between Ranger and Cal, with, Tank, Bobby, and surprisingly, Lester surrounding us.

The mood was light and the drinks are flowing freely. Dinner was only a memory, and things were starting to get just a little rowdy at our tables. Manny and Vince definitely seemed to be the instigators of the party atmosphere. I wonder just how many Coronas they've consumed? So far, I'd only consumed water in an effort to stay hydrated for the night.

To Ranger and Tank's amusement, Cal and I were in a heated debate over the merits of manufacturing pink bullets. I swear – there'd be a hell of a market for them – and I hadn't found any online yet. I think it's a brilliant idea, and Cal thinks it would be a crime punishable only by death.

"Oh, come on, Cal! Think of how many more women would be persuaded to carry! We don't even have to stop at pink! We could make blue ones for men, too." I joked.

All of the color in Cal's face faded. "In no way would I ever, in a million years, carry or shoot a gun that housed blue bullets. Or, for the record, pink ones."

I smirked. "C'mon guys. You don't know how to live!"

"Gotta say, Little Girl, I'd have to agree with the man. I'm not looking to make any fashion statements with my gun." There was a mumble of agreement from the other guys, though they were all smiling. Well, save Lester. He wasn't engaged in the conversation. Guess he didn't think the concept of pink bullets rated a reply. I wonder if I should be offended?

"Hmmm. What if they made _black_ bullets?" I asked. The guys were all silent, but I'd swear, Ranger seems to be considering the thought.

Moments later, Lula and Connie finally arrived on the scene. This had the effect of signaling the end of the dinner hour, and shuffled us into the salsa portion of the evening. We left the confines of our private room and re-entered society like the normal folk.

My salsa was a little rusty, by Manny had graciously volunteered to help get me back up to speed. He _was_ the self-proclaimed god of salsa dancing, after all.

By the third song, I'd had it down pretty well and Manny had me in hysterics, narrating Connie's attempt at learning the dance. She was making progress, but slowly. Hal was being such a sweetheart, patiently walking her through the steps, over and over and over again.

Every time she got to that one part, she'd trip over his leg and tumble to the ground. It was tragic, yet absolutely hilarious. By this point, even she was laughing. Hal was smiling and bent down to offer her his hand. He whispered something to her in her ear, while gently pulling her up. Connie smiled, and they got right back down to business. She said something to Hal, but I was too far away to hear. He blushed in response.

They'd make a really cute couple; I'd have to say.

I was beginning to overheat, so Manny and I took a break and made our way to the bar. Within minutes, a cute, petite blond caught his eye, and he was off. Boys! I was just finishing my first margarita when Binkie sauntered over. "Hey, gorgeous. How about a dance?"

I quickly agreed. As we approached the dance floor, I was once again struck with the giggles. In me, it seems like alcohol bypasses the normal route of metabolism and goes straight to my head. "Oh, God Binkie! Look all around us. It's only Rangemen and their dates or pickups on the floor. It's like the rest of people are afraid to join us!"

Binkie snorted –snorted- and shook his head at my observation. "Only you, Bomber, only you. Did you ever stop to consider that maybe they're intimidated my our mad salsa dancing skills and not our size?"

"Nope, not for a second. While I admit that you've all got some surprisingly good dancing skills, especially for being such macho men, I'd say it might have more to do with the quantity of weapons you each possess." At that, Binkie winked and offered me his biggest smile.

We caught the next dance as it started. Binkie was a great dancer, and he's honestly quite the looker. It's a shame he was six years younger than me. We got on fabulously, but there just wasn't any chemistry between us.

"So Binkie – I have to know. What's your real name?"

"Oh, no sweetheart. I'm not sharing."

"Maybe I'll just have to find a way to persuade you to share?"

"Go ahead and try, Bombshell, but let me warn you that many women have tried, and none have succeeded."

"I accept your challenge, Binkie. Consider yourself on notice!"

Binkie laughed his deep, baritone laugh and we floated through the remainder of our dance together. Next I danced with Ranger, then Vince, Bobby, Zero, Cal, Junior and finally, Ranger again. I was exhausted, but having the time of my life.

….

She is beautiful as ever, and tonight has been sheer torture. I kept my eyes trained on the dance floor, continuously surveying the space for any threats - watching over her, as usual. I was seated, alone, at the corner booth that our large group had claimed earlier.

Stephanie has such a way about her. She's somehow so very clumsy, yet graceful at the same time. She's been on the dance floor for a good two hours now; her face was slightly flushed from exertion, making her bright blue eyes almost seem to glow. The girl had some decent moves out there. She was dancing with Ranger, _again_, and her eyes caught mine. Instantly, my breath caught. Time seemed momentarily suspended. Thankfully I managed to recover fairly quickly and look away.

I hadn't wanted to come today, but Ranger had 'strongly suggested' that we all attend. I'd tried to swap with Devil on monitors, but bossman said it would reflect poorly on management if I refused. I really don't understand why it's so important. I really haven't been active in her training - I'd seen to that.

I've known Steph now for over two years. We'd met during that awful redecorating job. God, she'd been so clueless, so damn innocent then. That was before most of the horrors that she's witnessed as a BEA.

She's got such determination, such a will to succeed against all odds, that it's hard not to envy her. It's like she's offered life a challenge, and has risen to meet it. It's like she thinks, _Lets see what you've got next, life_! Really, how else do you explain the impossible situations that she's been in?

And somehow? She's managed to retain some of that innocence about her through it all. She's so good, so accepting, and so very warm. It's like you get this small taste of her, and you're addicted. She's so spirited; so effervescent that it's almost contagious. At first, I'd given Ranger such shit about the little white girl from the Burg. It only took about an hour to understand. Completely. She's tough not to love. And she doesn't even see it.

It's really a shame I hadn't met her first. Not that I want her, anyway. She's not my

type.

Besides, four months ago, we'd come close to losing her during the de Rossi takedown. And it had been entirely my fault.

….

As we parted after our second dance, Ranger placed a gentle kiss on my forehead before saying goodnight. "I've got a few cars lined up for the rest of you to take you home. Have fun and be safe. Enjoy your day tomorrow, Babe and I'll see you in the office on Wednesday."

I hugged him, said goodnight, and headed over to the huge Rangeman booth. At this point I was on my… fourth margarita? I was seated with Lula, Connie, Bobby, Vince, Cal, Binkie, Manny, Tank and Lester.

There was a second Rangeman table, but they were ignoring us, all tangled up with their pickups for the evening.

I am pretty sure that Tank was there to babysit us, and that while Lester seemed to have lightened up some throughout the night, he still seemed as if he was not there at will. The rest of us, well, I am pretty sure we were all completely smashed.

I can only attribute the consumption of alcohol on what came out of my mouth next, "So how 'bout a game?" I asked them.

"Whaddya mean, Bomber?" asked Vince.

"Hmmm… how about it's sorta like spin the bottle. Kinda." Well that got their attention rather quickly.

"Explain," was Tank's reply.

"Well, one person spins a bottle. That person gets to choose a pick up line that the person who it lands on has to use. Bottle-spinner-person also gets'ta choose the intended target. Who ever had the most success - wins. Oh, and it can't land on you twice in a round, so everyone has'ta take a turn."

Grins all around. Well, except for Lester. Mostly he looked like he was in pain. But we won't count him anymore.

"I like the sound of that, white girl. Count me in!" Lula replied.

Yep, I am genius, here me roooaaaaaar.

So, we played the game.

Since it was my game, Tank decided I got to start. I don't know who died and made him king of our party, but upon reflection (and the realization that I got to be first), I agreed that he was the most brilliant choice.

So, I grabbed an empty bottle of Corona, said a silent little prayer to our God almighty, and gave her a good spin.

It spun, and spun and spun. Finally, it landed on Bobby. _Excellent_.

I rubbed my hands together; the anticipation was mounting. I don't think it could have landed on a more perfect mark. I think Bobby was turning a little green, if totally delectable, dark-skinned black men can in fact turn green.

Hmmmm…. "Okay, Bobby. See that girl three tables over? The blond – the one with the long hair and blue dress?"

Bobby perked up. I admit it; I'd picked a cute one. "Don't get too cocky over there, Brown. I still haven't given you your line."

"The suspense is killing me, I'm sure," he sarcastically bit out.

Oh, so lover boy needs a challenge. Hmmm. Got it!

"Ok Bobby. Your line…" I giggled. "Your line is…" More giggles.

Pull it together, Steph!

"Ok, so Bobby, your line is, 'If you were a chicken, you'd be impeccable'."

The entire table erupted into hysterics. Oh, gawd, it hurt. The laughter actually hurt. I had tears streaming down my face. Thank goodness for waterproof mascara. I think I am going to die.

Well, Bobby wasn't laughing. Neither was Lester. Wait, I forgot I wasn't counting him anymore.

Slowly, we came down to earth, and waited for Bobby to carry out his prescribed mission.

With a look that could rival even my patented death glare, Bobby took a deep breath and rose from our table. As he passed me, he bent down and whispered, "Remember, Bombshell, paybacks are a bitch." Gulp.

The anticipation was killing me. Bobby made his way to the woman and we all waited with bated breath.

Though Bobby had his back to us, you could tell the exact _second_ that his line was delivered. The woman froze, her eyes widened in shock, and she laughed. Oh. My. God. Her laugh – her laugh sounded like a God-damned hyena. I'm really going to die.

Our table erupted once again – unable to contain our mirth any longer. That's when we heard it, the unmistakable sound of a woman's palm meeting flesh. Oh, no. Bobby was going to be so pissed at me!

That thought only served set me off, yet again. I struggled to get myself under control before Bobby reached the table and seated himself next to me. It wasn't working.

He sat down. '.. Not one tiny sound escaped his lips.

Vince was the first to recover. "So, Bobby … did you get her number?"

More hysterics. Tears streamed down my face.

A full five minutes later, our table had finally came back down to earth. Manny ordered another round of drinks. Finally, Bobby spoke. "You know, Bomber, I just may have been able to make that line work, had I been able to keep a straight face. That … that may be why she slapped me."

At that admission, it took us another several minutes to calm down, before setting up our next victim. At this rate, we'd probably never finish our game.

Bobby, having just fulfilled his requirement, got to spin next. Manny was the next victim. Bobby picked a rather voluptuous Italian woman and gave him a similarly condemned pick up line. Next, Manny's spin landed on Connie, then Connie' on Cal. Cal actually had moderate success with his target, a perky little Latino woman, but ultimately, he was not victorious. Thus far, we'd all been unsuccessful. We suck.

Then finally, Cal spun the Corona of catastrophe and the bottle pointed to Lester.

The man who shall remain uncounted was seriously displeased.

Snort.

"No," was all he'd said.

"Tough shit, Les. You're playing. What, afraid you can't land the chick?" taunted Cal.

"No, just don't want to shame your game, is all," Les replied.

"No, I think playboy Les is chicken," Cal jeered.

"Fine. Give me your best shot."

Cal took a moment to survey the area and collect his thoughts. "The hot redhead at the bar, gold dress, hooker boots. Your line… 'My love for you is like diarrhea. I just can't hold it in,'" said Cal.

For a solid ten seconds, you could hear a pin drop at our table. Most of the lines we'd administered so far had been down right funny, some of them maybe even slightly offensive, but this one was down right awful. There was no way to make it pretty.

Lester didn't flinch, didn't make a sound.

Finally, a rogue giggle escaped from Connie. It was contagious. Lula caught the giggle first, followed by Vince and Binkie. Within moments, the entire table was cackling.

Well, you know. All but one of us, anyway.

….

How in the hell did I get myself into this? I am pretty sure I didn't agree to play this game, and now I get to deliver the most God-awful line to a slut of a woman that I've never met. Just perfect.

What the hell was Stephanie thinking? And who let her drink so much? Her speech is starting to slur. I'll have to keep better watch over her.

I know I have a reputation as a playboy, but I'm actually a bit cautious when it comes to women. Don't get me wrong, when I'm in need I can manage pick-ups quite nicely, but I don't enjoy playing games. I don't do relationships, not really, but I do have my little black book of women that I prefer to stick to. They're woman I can trust, and women that are looking for the same thing as me: sex without strings.

I'm so not getting out of this. I'd better bring my "A" game. I rose, ready to meet my challenge.

….

Lester stood, in all his playboy glory and swaggered, _yes_ - _swaggered,_ all the way over to the bar. He affixed his best, most charming smile and leaned into the unsuspecting woman.

The man was rumored to be a pick-up genius. In all of our nights out with the group these past couple of years, I don't think I'd ever seen him leave a club alone.

But this mission? This mission had impossible stamped all over it.

We all watched, with the occasional giggle escaping our lips. We waited. We watched for Lester to reach the point of no return. God help me, I actually sort of felt sorry for the guy.

At our angle, we couldn't really read either of their faces very well, but within moments, you could see the woman grin. Her grin turned into an all-out belly laugh and wouldn't you know it, the woman was _leaning into him_.

The hell?

Manny whined, evidence of his tipsy state, "How does he do it? It's just so not fair. If I just had on tenth of his charm, my bed would never be empty again."

"Here, here!" Exclaimed the guys. They all clinked their beer bottles, the amber liquid sloshing over our table.

Ten minutes later, Lester sauntered back over to our table, her phone number in hand. It was our turn to be speechless. "Told you so," was all he'd said upon his return. Gawd, the man is such a whore.

He picked up the bottle, spun it, and wouldn't you know it, it landed on me.

Oh, crap.

….

Crap, crap, crappity, crap.

For the first time tonight, Lester actually had a small smile upon his face. He took a moment, surveyed the club, and identified my target.

The guy stood across the room, and oh God, he was drop-dead gorgeous. His clothes reeked of money, and he had quite the upper-class air about him. He absolutely stank of Wall Street.

He was so not my type.

I was quiet, motionless. I was mentally cringing in horror while waiting for my line of doom.

I take it back; I didn't really feel sorry for him before.

Les smirked. The jerk actually _smirked_. "OK, Princess. I've got it. You'll walk up to Mr. Wall Street over there, introduce yourself and ask him, "Wouldn't we look cute on a wedding cake together?"

The table exploded in a combination of cheers and laughter. Apparently, the line was the perfect selection.

After all, there's nothing quite like the terror instilled upon a man upon the mere suggestion of marriage. Especially when it's like the first moment you met her.

If ever the ground were going to open up and swallow me whole, now would be the time.

Maybe I should have drunk that fifth margarita?

I glanced at my target, then at Lester, and then back to my target again. I can do this, I told myself. I fixed a giant smile upon my face and began my assent.

Slowly, methodically, I ambled over to my target. I felt my blood pressure rise incrementally with each step as I neared him. With a final, backward glance over my shoulder at my group, I took a deep breath and closed the distance between me and Mr. Wall Street.

"Hi there," I said upon making eye contact. "I'm Stephanie".

"Alexander," he replied, offering me his hand.

I could do this. I swear, I can do this.

I took his hand in mine, leaned into him and offered him my best sex kitten voice. Peering at him (seductively, I'd hoped), through my lashes, I took a deep breath and I asked him the dreaded question.

"So, Alexander, wouldn't we look cute onna wedding cake t'gether?"

His face lit up in a playful smile. _Hmmm, maybe he isn't so bad after all? _I wondered to myself.

I was torn between running away and throwing up while I waited for his reply.

"Let me guess – your friends give you a dare?" Mr. Alexander Wall Street asked as he worked on closing the remaining gap between us.

He smelled nice.

"How?"

"How?"

"Yes, how didja know?" I asked.

"Well, there's a table full of about ten men and women with their eyes transfixed on us. About the exact moment you fed me that dreadful pick-up line, the entire table cheered. Don't look now, but I think the bright pink black woman might actually be on the very of fainting from oxygen deprivation. That's how hard she's laughing."

Holy cow, this was embarrassing. Oh, Lula. "Criminy. So, what are the odds that you'd believe me if I said this whole little game was actually my own hare-brained idea?"

Alexander's smile widened at my admission. "Actually, angel, I wouldn't have it any other way. Tell me, how exactly does this game work?" His hand drifted toward mind. He lightly played with my fingers.

I took a deep breath and explained my formerly excellent idea. Alexander only chuckled, and immediately began scribbling his number down on a piece of paper. Where he'd found it, I don't know.

The paper, not the number. C'mon people, keep up.

"We can't have the organizer of the festivities here lose, now can we?" he asked.

"Oh, certainly not. 'Specially as the entire night was s'posed to be in celebration of me!"

Alexander wore a very naughty smile. He leaned into me, and whispered in my ear. His warm breath made me shiver and break out in goose bumps.

"How about this angel. I'd love nothing more than to take you back to a hotel and have my wicked way with you, but something tells me that isn't such a great idea. Besides, my helicopter is on standby; I have a very early board meeting scheduled for the morning in New York. I was just about to leave when you approached me."

He took a deep breath, and then he continued. "Unless you'd like to come with me, Stephanie. Spend the day in New York with me tomorrow."

I was stunned beyond words. Leave? New York? With someone I didn't know until five minutes ago?

No way. I can't.

Can I?

"Which side is winning the war, angel?" Alexander asked.

Sigh. I shouldn't. Probably I'm drunk and it would be a stupid thing to do. I offered him my best smile. "Thanks for the offer," I stated, Burg manners prevailing. "But really, I shouldn't." I frowned.

"Shouldn't, or won't?" He asked.

"Does it matter?" I replied.

He smiled. "Only to my ego, Miss Stephanie."

I smiled in return. "You're not so bad, Alexander."

"Your friends are watching you like a hawk. Want to play a little game with them?"

"What didja have in mind?"

"My driver could give you a lift home. Hands-off – scout's honor."

I took a second to look him over. I replied, "I like how you think."

I walked over to the table, smiled at my friends and grabbed my handbag. They didn't move; they sat there, dumbstruck. "See you guys on Wednesday!" I called out, turning on my heel.

I win.

….

Wednesday met me bright an early. I was exhausted, but refreshed. I'd spent the entire day yesterday holed up in my apartment. Alexander had been a perfect gentleman and even better, a great sport after having fielded Tank's panicked 20 questions upon my quick departure.

Apparently, Mr. Wall Street successfully passed their impromptu background check, though in the interest of full disclosure, I must admit that I am still uncertain of his actual last name. I am pretty sure it isn't actually Wall Street.

During the 20-minute ride home, he'd actually been funny and great company. He'd walked me to my door and placed a kiss on my cheek as he said goodbye. He was such a gentleman. He said to call him if ever I was in NYC. I just might do that.

It was now nearly 5am on Wednesday and my hangover is finally, officially gone. I swear, I am never drinking again. I quickly dressed in my workout gear and made my way to Rangeman. I still didn't really love my time in the gym, but I could respect the positive changes it had inflicted upon my body; I am really starting to tone up. Plus, my clothes were fitting better than ever.

Unfortunately, it was going to be prime workout time, so I anticipated having a full, captive audience. I hadn't spoken to anyone since I left El Fuego Monday night. I tentatively entered the gym. I ran my now usual 5.5 miles on the treadmill and then waited for a spot near the free weights. Having just finished, Hal greeted me and then spotted me as I completed my workout. We'd chattered on about normal things; he caught me up on what I'd missed yesterday, which wasn't much.

About 90 minutes after my arrival, my workout was complete, I replaced the free weights I'd used and made my way to my 'locker room'. Somehow, I'd so far avoided the third degree from the guys. I showered and dressed for the day in my standard Rangeman black and slipped my still-wet hair into a ponytail. I double-checked my schedule for the day and groaned.

It was packed, and it wasn't really pleasant. I'd begin my day with two hours on monitors with Devil, followed by a couple hours of searches at my desk. After that, I'd have lunch in the break room, and then work on defensive driving with Zero for 1.5 hours. To top off the brilliance that would be my day, I'd get to train some hand-to-hand with none other than newest non-friend, Lester Santos.

….

I'd managed to successfully navigate through my day answering only a small amount of questions from Monday. I'd just returned to the garage with Zero after my almost-successful defensive driving session.

Turns out my tendency to block things out in surveillance carries over to driving, too. I can drive alright, sure, but I just can't seem to reliably pick up a tail. But hey, I deemed it an overall success - at least the car didn't go boom.

I was making my way back into the gym; I hit the locker room. Yep, Ranger turned one of the smaller storage rooms into a girl's locker room for me. While I was informed that it was a legal requirement due to my presence, I suspect it was as much so that we could keep our newfound professional distance – there'd be no more 7th-floor showers for me. It's the end of an era. Surprisingly, I wasn't as sad as I thought I might be.

I changed, yet again, and attempted to mentally prepare myself for my final training session of the day. While I was obviously not looking forward to the socializing aspect of what came next, I _was_ looking forward to learning whatever it was that Les was willing to teach me. He was a regular virtuoso when it came to hand-to-hand and a great teacher; I always walked away with a couple of new tricks.

Lester entered the gym, clad only in black basketball shorts. He was shirtless, and looking like he was looking forward to our scheduled training time about as much as he'd look forward to a root canal. That is, not very much. Not at all.

He looked very much like the badass he was, and no matter how much I tried to remind myself that this was Lester, fun-loving, playboy Lester, I had to admit that I was just a bit intimidated. I tried to smile at him, I really did, but I think it came off more as a grimace.

He didn't say a word to me as he approached. Then, he made eye contact with me. Lester was not a happy man today. Oh, boy.

Wordlessly, he taped his hands; I took his lead and did the same. We entered the ring and began our warm-ups. Finally, he spoke, "Have an exciting couple of days there, Princess?" he asked. His voice was like ice.

"You know Lester, I did. Thanks for asking," I coolly replied. Two can play this game.

Lester seemed- no … Lester was absolutely incensed. What got his goat today, anyway? I mean sure, he's been distant, but today he seems to be downright fuming.

We carried on in silence for a couple more minutes. Finally, his dam apparently broke. He stood and began to pace, looking me dead in the eye. His expression was ominous. I think I winced.

Hello Steph. Meet Scary Les.

He stopped pacing. When he finally spoke, his voice was laced with venom. "Do you ever think, Steph? Do you?"

I recoiled. I was speechless - completely unable reply. I'd never heard him use this tone of voice before. It was all I could do to watch and listen.

He continued. Of course, there was more. "First, you come up with some fucking two-bit drunken game for the guys to play, and then, you ditched them. You left them on a night they'd planned for you. A night your dear _Ranger_ required all of us to attend, in order to show our … _appreciation_ … for the gift that is your presence at this very company. What thanks did they get in return, Steph?

What, now you're clamming up? You've got no answer for me? Well, I'll tell you what thanks we got. You just fucking _flew_ off to Manhattan in a motherfucking helicopter without a care in the world with the first idiot that showed you the least bit of attention."

Tears were threatening at his words.

"Did you ever consider the panic they'd all feel, Stephanie? Did you ever, for one moment, consider that perhaps Mr. Wall Street might have been bad news?

No, you didn't, did you? Because - I'll say it again: YOU DON'T THINK! Thoughtless fucking Stephanie saw a good-looking guy in an expensive suit and stopped at nothing to get into his bed, and damn the consequences. You know what? You're reckless, Stephanie, and you're a liability to our company."

I sat there, slack-jawed. It took me a moment to pull myself together. No way would I let myself be intimidated by him. I'm done playing the victim.

I was so pissed off that I was shaking. Fuck him and his condescending attitude. I stood up and got right in his face. His face faintly registered surprise before his blank face slammed down.

"Are you quite finished now, _friend_?

You know what, Lester? You can go to fucking hell. You know absolutely _nothing_ about me, and nor have you ever based upon those comments you just made.

You know nothing of my past; nothing about what makes Stephanie Plum tick, and don't you for one _fraction_ of a second forget that.

I didn't ask for Monday to happen, Les. Not that I'm not thankful that it did. These guys here have done nothing but support me and treat me with respect since the first time I walked through these doors. It's been my pleasure to get to know them better.

But as far as 'ditching them,'? Really? It was freaking 1:00 in the morning! Not to mention, it was a game in which the goal was to pick someone up! Sure, I'll be the first to admit that I was drunk when I'd come up with it, but know what? We'd had a great time. Well, not you obviously, but the rest of us did. And it was the first solid bit of good-natured fun that I've had in longer than I'd care to admit.

Yes. It was probably foolish to leave with Alexander, but don't you all here commend me for my instincts? My 'spidey sense,' so to speak? Hell, Lester, I'd come back to the table and grabbed my clutch, which contained three God damned trackers and my cell phone.

I'd also been wearing my panic button in my garter belt.

So don't you for one fucking second accuse me of being reckless, you prick. For the past month, I have done nothing but bust my ass to improve my skills and prove to everyone here that I'm serious about change.

And speaking of change, Lester, what the hell has happened to you, anyway? You know, a month ago I'd have considered you my closest friend here, besides Ranger. But since I started at Rangeman, full time? You've spent the past four-plus weeks avoiding me and pretending I don't exist."

He sucked in a breath and looked away. Apparently, I'd hit a nerve. My angered faded into sadness. "As far as I'm concerned, Les, you can screw off with your holier-than-thou attitude. I'd say you're the last person in this entire building that has any right to lecture me.

And finally? I didn't go home with him. I never really considered it. I certainly didn't see the inside of his helicopter, and I never crossed the state line. I spent the night in my own bed, alone."

Finished with my rant, I moved into his line of vision. He met my gaze, but his blank face was in full effect. Neither of us spoke. We both stood there, quiet with our eyes locked, for a good two minutes. You could cut the tension between us with a knife. It quickly became clear that our conversation was over.

At that realization, I ripped the tape from my hands, snatched up my boots and stormed out of the gym. His words had hurt. While I knew they were mostly untrue, it killed me to think he thought of me that way.

I mean, did he really think I'd jetted off to NYC? And if he was so concerned, why didn't he bother to pull up my trackers?

I need a nap.


	6. Chapter 4

"Bossman, you should see this," Tank stated as he entered my well-appointed office. He set his laptop down on my desk and rewound a feed from the gym.

My eyes widened fractionally as I took in the scene. _Fucking Santos_, I thought to myself. I began to rise.

Tank put his had on my shoulder and said, "Boss, with all due respect, watch it before you react."

I leveled a look at Tank and then sat back down at my mahogany desk. I couldn't help it when my hands balled into fists as I listened to my oldest friend berate what was probably my closest friend. Stephanie looked equal parts surprised, terrified, and incredibly pissed off.

I've known Santos for nearly my entire life. He likes to carry the persona of a flighty good-time boy, but at heart the man is a true-blue soldier. Lester was badass before I was badass. I don't blame her in the least for being a bit scared of this side of him. Not that I enjoyed witnessing it.

My hands finally loosened when I watched her start in on her reply. A small smile played at my lips. _That's my Babe._

I continued watching as Stephanie stormed out of the gym. Lester remained there for some time; he looked …sad. Finally, he turned and left, presumably for his apartment.

"Interesting development," was my only comment.

"Need me to get Santos up here?" Tank asked.

"No. We've got to let them work this out on their own," I replied. I am not entirely sure what is going on between them, but I could certainly hazard a guess. "You know, Tank, she's come a long way."

"She has," he replied, still a bit uncertain. I can tell he'd still like to read Santos the riot act.

"I don't need to tell you not to repeat this – but I do not, in any way, condone the stunt she pulled at the club Monday night. That said, I think we have to give her some credit. A few months ago, she might have really gotten on that helicopter. She's beginning to be able to reel in her impulses, and that's a bit of an accomplishment."

"I know, and I'm proud of her. You should have seen the guys after she'd left. For a moment, I thought I'd have to sedate Lester. He was not happy." Tank said with a smirk. "Are you going to discuss this with her."

"No, I'm going to let it go. I think Lester has said enough for all of us."

Tank nodded. Conversation complete, Tank retrieved his laptop and made his way back to his own office.

….

_About one week later._

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through Rangeman, not a creature was stirring, not even one single badass.

Well, except Tank and I, that is. We'd drawn the short straws. Well, I'd drawn the short straw. Apparently it's Tank's turn in the rotation. The four partners (Ranger, Tank, Bobby and Lester) rotate their holiday shifts so that only one of us lowly servants has to be here. So anyway, monitor duty it is.

I was assigned six, long, agonizing hours of monitor duty in the sterile control room of Rangeman, LLC. Just off the elevator on the fifth floor, the control room was nearly perfectly square. It probably measured about 18' x 20' in dimensions, and it served as the information hub of the building. Along the far wall, across from the elevator, was a bank of monitors. Directly in front of them was a small, mission-style desk with two chairs facing them.

The chairs were black, of course, and they were comfortable, but not so comfortable that you might get too relaxed. Two phones sat atop the oak desk, though they weren't for personal use. They were directly linked to each and every Rangeman client. All they had to do is press a button and 'presto'; a Rangeman was on the line.

I was surrounded by at least a hundred or so tiny monitors, each about a 12" in size. Over time, I've finally developed my own pattern of surveillance that made me feel slightly less overwhelmed. Many of the screens rotated through various camera angles from our clients, though the monitors for those that were either that much more well-off or high-maintenance streamed without deviation.

I glanced around. If the Trenton office grew much more, we'd definitely need to expand this room.

The walls were a pristine white. The wall to the left of the bank of monitors housed the door to our electronics room. That's where Hector spent much of his time, testing and readying new equipment for us to play with. The wall to the right housed various cubbies, closets and a series of hooks, containing everything from Kevlar vests to backup weaponry to handcuffs and of course, keys to the entire Rangeman fleet.

Directly behind me, next to the elevator was the hall that led to the operations room (which housed my cubicle), the break room, and the partners' offices.

The place was absolutely deserted. I was just one hour into my shift, and I was already getting twitchy. Tank, bless him, had taken pity on me and was allowing me gorge myself on junk food for the night. Hey, it's a holiday - cut me some slack. Plus, I tend to eat when I'm bored.

So, I scarfed down my third butterscotch krimpet of the evening. Yeah, sometimes I can even disgust myself.

Well, that ate up an entire two minutes.

Ate up, hehe.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock. The imaginary clock in my head slowly ticked off each second as it passed.

Two hours, thirty-seven minutes and ten seconds of silence down, Three hours, twenty-two minutes and fifty seconds left.

The time was approaching 11pm. I was approaching full-blown insanity.

The monitors were eerily quiet. I needed to get Tank talking before I fell asleep. Tank is not a talker, particularly when any sort of surveillance is involved Hmmm… "You know, Tank, Santa so isn't going to stop here if we stay awake. Maybe we should try a quick nap?"

Tank, aptly named for his sheer size and intimidation, didn't so much as blink at my comment. I hadn't really thought it would work.

"You know, he sees everything. Probably he knows we'd catch him on the monitors if he tried to drop off our gifts," I continued.

Still nothing.

"What did you ask Santa for this year, Tank? You know, Lula and I visited him and sat on his lap at the mall just yesterday. I'd tell you what I asked for, except it's a secret," I said in a weak attempt at baiting him.

Silence.

I let myself speak my thoughts. "Do you think next year Ranger will let us decorate and put up Christmas trees? Maybe we could put one up in the lobby, one in our executive conference room, and one in the operations room? Do you think Ranger would prefer a real tree or a fake tree? I think I am going to hit the after Christmas sales to stock up on decorations for next year. I bet I'll find some really great deals – I'm a great bargain shopper. Next year, we'll really deck the Rangeman halls. Hmmm. What do you think Ranger's stance on mistletoe would be? Do you think he'd go for a Secret Santa gift exchange? We could all exchange names and leave little mystery gifts for one another." I asked, carrying on with my (outlandish) one-sided plans.

I mean, really, couldn't you just picture Ranger hitting the mall on Black Friday and picking out little $10 gifts for Hal?

I wonder what he'd buy him. Somehow I don't picture him buying Hal those fuzzy little chenille aloe socks or stopping at Bath and Body works for some Sweet Pea scented lotion.

Can you imagine? Ranger - dashing off and hiding in his office to quickly wrap up the gifts before Hal arrived, then sneaking them onto his desk before his shift

Snicker.

Probably, he'd buy him some bullets or a case of Corona. Not that it would ever happen.

I swear I just saw Tank's lips twitch fractionally, though he remained mute. I wonder if he was thinking what I was thinking?

I sighed and started to fidget while maintaining my constant vigilance over the monitors. Next time, I'm totally going to bribe Bobby to swap with Tank. At least Bobby talks, even if it is usually about infections, best practices and mortality rates.

I'm becoming more delirious by the moment.

"So, Tank - now that Rangeman officially employs a full-time female field employee, do you think Ranger would consider changing the name of the company to RangePeople? You know, attempt to be more PC and all?"

That garnered a small smile, but no reply. I expelled a sigh. Not good enough.

I tried to entertain myself, I really did. I ran my multiplication tables through my head. I risked a glance at the clock. An hour and fifty-two minutes left. Time for another tactic.

I hazarded a glance at Tank. "So, what in the fuck has crawled up Lester's ass, anyway?" I asked.

_There we go._ Tank actually flinched, though I give him credit, he was still silent.

"C'mon Tank. Don't pretend that something isn't going on," I said. I lowered my voice to a whisper. "It's as if I don't exist, Tank, and it's killing me. The not knowing, the not understanding what it is that I did wrong is driving me crazy."

I hated myself for that little admission. I'd promised myself I wouldn't let myself care anymore. Ha!

"Little girl, I'm sorry, but it's not my place to interfere. You two kids have got to work this out on your own."

"It's hard to work it out when there's no communication, Tank! He won't talk to me. I thought … I thought when we'd had it out in the gym last week that maybe I'd have gotten through to him a little, but he's been just as withdrawn as usual."

"Stephanie, you know I adore you, but this is not my story to tell." With that, he offered me a small smile and reached over and ruffled my hair.

"Ranger and I know."

I looked at him, confused. "Know what?" My bra size, my favorite flavor of Tastykakes, that secretly, my favorite color was pink? The possibilities were endless.

"That you spent that night in your own bed. Ranger had monitored your trackers until he'd been certain. Just don't ever pull a stunt like that again. Please." He gave me a pointed look. "Your friend originally told us you were getting on his helicopter. We were worried," Monologue finished; he continued his monitor surveillance in silence for the rest of our shift.

I felt a momentary flash of guilt for their worry and Ranger's missed sleep, but then I made myself get over it. Men are so frustrating. It's not like I was attached to any of them, and certainly I should be entitled to date whomever I'd like. With that, I retreated into my thoughts, plotting various ways to get out of Christmas brunch with my crazy family the next day.

….

_2 months later…._

I'm nervous.

Badasses don't do nervous. But try as I might I just haven't been able shake this feeling all damn day. I am on my way to pick up Stephanie for tonight's distraction.

Two weeks ago, Steph was assigned as my now 'permanent' partner – to my obvious displeasure. Somehow, I'd known that this would happen. I'd tried my best to avoid it. I'd even gone so far as to try to refuse to train with her - only Ranger had gotten into a snit about it and forced me to work with her anyway.

He's such a dick.

But I have to admit; Steph really kicked some ass during her training. I think she even surprised herself. The woman was a closet genius at B&E and is actually a halfway decent shot. Her hand-to-hand is even getting there - for a girl. I don't mean to sound like a chauvinistic pig; I more mean to take into account her size.

Sure, we can train her to use her size to her advantage, and I've made that my own personal mission. But, put her up against a ruthless, street-smart skip with 6 inches and 100 pounds on her and there's just no real way to avoid eventual catastrophe. Sometimes, a weapon is your only realistic option.

Unfortunately, we know how she feels about those; though, as per Rangeman regulations, she now at least shows up to work appropriately dressed.

Anyway, we'd apparently worked brilliantly together in the ring and our skills had complemented each other 'very well'.

I parked in her lot and took the last few minutes of my freedom to skim through the skip's background. I reviewed tonight's strategy for what seems to be the hundredth time. A small smile played at my lips; Steph was going to be so pissed.

….

Where in the hell was Lester?

This man was seriously going to drive me crazy. First, he spends my first ten weeks of training at Rangeman avoiding me as if I had the plague. Then, we have it out in the Rangeman gym and now, through some cruel twist of fate, Ranger decides we'd make an exceptional team.

We've been forced to spend eleven of the past fourteen days together. Let me tell you, it's wearing on me.

There's a difference between quiet and silence.

I still don't completely understand Ranger's logic. During my training, I'd actually gotten fairly close to Hector. We'd worked well together and had built up a healthy respect for one another. He's been teaching me Spanish, and despite his being eight years younger than me, he has really taken on the role of my big brother. He was (and now, still is) partner-less, so I truly thought that we might be placed together in the field.

I was shocked, to say the least, when he'd split up the magnificent duo that was Lester and Bobby. But apparently, the timing was perfect; at long last, Bobby was going to start training a new employee, a guy he'd personally recruited. I guess they'd spent a lot of time together while in the military.

Bobby actually seemed to be excited about it. Well, as excited as a Merry Man would outwardly show.

If I were completely honest, I'd have to say that I'd pretty much been getting along with everyone _except_ Lester. Sure, the few times we'd worked together in training had actually been strangely successful. Despite his ever-present attitude, Les and I had seemed to connect on some inexplicable, intuitive level. We had been able to easily anticipate each other's movements, and our instincts had complemented each other well.

Probably that has more to do with the fact that we're partners than the fact that we don't get long. I don't think even Ranger is that big of a douche. Is he?

I just don't understand what the deal is. Les has been treating me like a pesky little sister that he just can't shake – without any other endearing big-brother type of qualities.

He's even pretended our blowout never happened.

I am stumped and I don't get it. I've even discussed the situation with my shrink, Dr. Ahrens. I'm still working on it. I've made some great strides over the past few months, but this has me a bit rattled. See, I've been learning to trust myself, and others, again. Heck, I've even _dated_ a couple of guys.

No, not any of the Rangeman guys, but I'd dated a few regular guys. Nothing serious, but I'd even made it to date #3 with one of them. His name was Josh; he'd been a chiropractor. He'd been sweet, funny, and even pretty good looking, but there was no real _spark_.

I _need_ spark. So, no date #4.

Anyway, back on track. How am I supposed to continue in my progress if it seems that even my partner doesn't even trust me? How can I trust him if he doesn't trust me?

I'd confronted Ranger about it before he dashed off to (presumably) single-handedly save a developing country. Yep – that's right. A mere four days after I completed my official 10-week training period he'd set off to change the world for the better, yet again.

He'd asked me to have faith in him – and Lester. That's it. That was his entire reply.

He's such a dick.

Granted, he wasn't aware of my self-esteem building sessions with Dr. Ahrens or the reasons behind them on account of I was keeping it all a secret.

Probably I should forgive him.

Glancing at the clock, I felt the tension start to build in my apartment. He had three minutes. I tossed on one final coat of mascara – my special kind of liquid courage – and checked my reflection. Apparently, my skip's preferences lent toward the cheap and easy, so I was wearing my sluttiest dress. I'd almost call it my fuck-me dress – if such a thing existed. It was a fire-engine red, stretch lace mini-dress that _almost_ reached mid-thigh.

I made a mental note not to bend over.

The dress had a red stretch-lace overlay atop a nude sheath. The back of the dress was almost demure, sweet, but he neckline was … plunging and nearly reached my navel. I'd definitely needed to forgo my wonder bra tonight.

Peculiarly, even I had to admit that it really wasn't missed. I did need to employ my special double-sided tape to keep the girls housed, though. I really didn't want to take that sort of risk tonight. After all, I'm going for easy pick-up, not easy access.

I had the dress paired with my black thigh-highs. When I walked, you got just the barest peek at their lacy tops. I'd pinned my hair into a tangle of curls atop my head, leaving a few rogue curls to dance about my face. I slipped on my 4.5" black patent leather FMPs and added my silver chain to the ensemble. The pendant rested _just above_ the valley between my breasts.

I have to say, the outfit came together very well. God bless Lula – she'd convinced me to buy the dress. I actually think I look pretty damn decent tonight - for a high-dollar hooker, anyway.

He had one minute, and then he was officially late.

I made my way toward the window. Sure as shit, he was parked in my lot, waiting. Like hell I was going to go to him. Fucker can come and get me.

….

I closed the file and glanced up to Stephanie's apartment just in time to see her curtain settle. She knows I'm here, and she's probably going to make me come and get her.

God that woman's got some sass.

With that thought, I sighed. Hey, I can't help it – and it's not like anyone could hear it anyway.

_Why does she still live here, anyhow?_ I wondered to myself as I made my way out of my Rangeman-issued Ford Explorer and into her dilapidated building. And, why did she refuse the available apartment at Rangeman? Certainly, if nothing else, her new annual salary could support a much nicer pad.

The woman was a puzzle.

I took the stairs two at a time. I reached her floor and cautiously approached her door.

Shit, I was still fucking nervous. This won't do. In just eleven short days together, Steph was starting to rub off of me. She was supposed to be the one with the spidey-senses, not me.

I tried to shake it off and took a moment to pull myself together. I took a deep breath, counted to twenty, and knocked. Moments later, Stephanie opened the door.

I was in no way prepared for the vision before me.

In the tiniest fraction of a second, my mouth went dry as my heart rate simultaneously skyrocketed. I think it took all of five seconds for my cock to harden and for all of the air to rush from my lungs.

It felt like I'd taken a sucker punch to the gut.

The woman was literally breathtakingly gorgeous. She was exquisite. She was walking seduction.

She was _Beautiful_.

The dress hugged her every delicious curve while several of her wayward, coffee-colored curls tickled that delicate, graceful neck of hers, inviting a nuzzle and a nip of my teeth.

Ack!

No, no, no, nonononono.

She was off-limits, and she's not a one-and-done sort-of girl.

Not that I want Stephanie, anyway.

_C'mon soldier, get it together. Think of genocide, boiling puppies, Grandma Mazur in a g-string._

Ahhh. Grandma works every time. Gradually, I felt myself come back under control.

"You doin' alright there, Lester?" Stephanie asked, slight smirk to her face.

I met her stunning, sparkling blue eyes. I'm pretty sure that this evil woman knew perfectly well the effect her appearance had just had on me. Not that I'll ever admit it.

"Perfectly, Princess. Did you need a few more minutes to finish getting ready?" Oh yeah, Steph. Two can play this game.

Her eyes narrowed, then she settled down. "Nope!" Steph replied as she smoothed her hands up and down her dress. _Jesus woman, knock it off! _"I'm ready, Les," she stated as she turned to grab her little red purse-thing from her couch. I think it's called it a clutch or something? Who the hell knows? All relevant thought escaped me as she slowly, _deliberately_, bent at her waist to grab it. Sonofabitch.

"I'll meet you in the car," I choked out, turning to flee her apartment. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, this woman was going to send me to the loony bin.

….

Watching Lester's escape, I couldn't help but smile.

I don't think I'd imagined his response when he'd opened the door. For a moment, I thought for sure he was going to attack me like some sort of sex-starved lunatic.

Then, when I'd called him on his reaction, just as any self-respecting Jersey girl would do, he tried to cover it with a lightly veiled insult.

Jackass. Of course I was ready, you cad.

I made quick work of affixing my wire, locking my apartment, engaging my new alarm system (complements of Rangeman), and hopping into the elevator. I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax. I needed to get into my newfound zone if I wanted tonight to be a success.

….

We'd just arrived at the Trenton club, Lucky, where we'd make quick work of the skip. I took the file from Lester and began to acquaint myself with the skip-du-jour.

Within seconds, I sat up with a jolt.

"What the heck is this, Lester?" I squeaked.

"Tonight's skip, Princess."

"Yes, and our skip's name is Maddie McClintock! Is this some sort of joke? This is certainly more up your alley than mine." Lester often worked the distractions with female skips.

"Steph, you flatter me, but rest-assured we've done our homework well."

"You mean, Maddie…" I couldn't say it. I let the sentence trail off.

"Yes, Steph. Maddie likes a … softer touch." He snickered.

"Maddie's a … Maddie's a lesbian." I am so not going to let myself hyperventilate.

Lester had the nerve to smile. "Yes. Tonight's target is a lesbian."

"And this club…"

"Is a gay club, yes."

"Christ, Lester – what am I supposed to do with this? It's not exactly my area of expertise."

"Sure it is. It's no different. Go in there, get her attention, then lead her to your Merry Men."

I took a deep breath and attempted to calm myself. Could I do this? Will I do this?

No. No way could I pull this off! "Lester, this is going to be around the Burg within minutes! I can hear my mother now, 'Stephanie, Deidre Salvatore's daughter doesn't go into gay bars to pick up women'. She'll probably have a heart attack. I should call Bobby, have him get ready, have him get into position near my parent's house." I frantically began to search for my phone.

Lester grabbed my hands and I immediately stilled. Besides our training, it's the first time he's touched me in months.

He made eye contact with me as he fixed a deadly serious expression on his face. "So, you're going to let your mother's opinion of you dictate your life, Stephanie? Your job?"

"Geez, Les, of course I am! She's my _mother_!"

"So, what happened to the girl who wanted to fly? The girl who didn't want to be the Burg? Where the fearless woman that we love so much?"

"She never wanted to fly to other women!"

He closed his eyes in obvious frustration and scrubbed his hands across his face, at war within himself for just a moment. He lowered his voice and spoke softly, meeting my gaze. "Look, Steph, it's a job. You can do this. You will do this. I believe in you, and there's no one more qualified for this than you."

He actually sighed.

"We need to get this woman back behind bars. She's an evil, conniving bitch. She's accused of brutally raping four different women, one of them being a minor. How she made bail, I'll never know, but it expires tomorrow. The last thing Bobby and I wanted was to use you as bait, but we were out-voted. We're out of options.

Steph, we need you to just treat this like any other distraction job. Has it ever really mattered who the skip is? Your instincts are always dead-on. Follow them. Please."

I paled and started to hyperventilate, "Right now? Right now, my instincts are telling me to tell you to go to hell!" I yelled, my Italian temper flaring.

"Stephanie, would you please calm down? I don't understand-"

I cut him off, "Calm down, Les? My parents will disown me! And you? You want me to seduce a female rapist!" I shouted, my temper reaching a fevered pitch.

"Are you even listening to yourself?" he whispered, an incredulous look on his face. In a desperate attempt to get my attention, Lester reached over and gently framed my face with his hands, pulling me to him.

He has big, warm, calloused hands.

I took a breath and tried to calm down.

I'd never really noticed before just how beautiful Les actually was. I mean sure, I've always thought he was good looking - all of the Merry Men are; and he sure fills out his cargoes well.

But he had this short, shiny, inky black hair that he always worn in a slightly mussed-up look. He often looked like he'd just rolled out of bed; but judging by the amount of gel he sported, this was most definitely on purpose. He had big, gorgeous almond-shaped bedroom eyes that are amber-hued and framed by a set of long, thick black lashes. His skin was the perfect shade of caramel, and his lips…

Oh, Lord his lips. They were like heart-shaped pillows and his bottom lip just called out and begged me to pull it between my teeth.

Tonight he was sporting a five-o'clock shadow that lent a dangerous edge to his otherwise nearly angelic good looks. Oh, God - the man was adorable, completely irresistible.

And when he'd smile, he had the most perfect dimple on his left side. Most definitely, Lester has the best, most endearing panty-melting smile that I've ever witnessed.

As I studied his face, I felt my breath begin to quicken; I was like a woman possessed. Wetting my lips, I subconsciously began to lean into him. Liquid pooled in my core as his warm breath caressed my cheek.

Jesus, what he did to me with just one little touch.

His heavy-lidded amber eyes held a fire within them; they locked on mine, asking, reassuring. He lightly stroked my cheek with his thumb as he moved in to close the distance between us. My eyelids drifted shut on their own accord.

Finally, his soft lips tenderly brushed against mine.

They tasted like honey – his lips. His kiss was the tiniest of caresses, but it was laced with emotion, adoration. My breath caught, and I was completely overwhelmed by the feelings stirring within me.

He deepened the kiss, but only just. This was by far the single sweetest kiss I've ever experienced. My heart fluttered, and a warmth I'd never felt before slowly spread through me. My heart began to race. My hand slowly reached out to him, settling on his broad, muscled chest.

I heard a sharp rap on my window. We immediately jumped apart. Tank's booming voice resounded, "Lester, Bomber, lets get the show on the road!"

_Oh, no_! Was all I could think. What just happened? Les kissed me! I kissed Les!

This hadn't been part of the plan.

I glanced over at Les, who looked just as dazed as I felt. My earlier anxiety long forgotten, I reached down, switched on my wire and hopped out of the SUV; in an attempt to shake it off, I focused on Tank as he gave me a quick run-down, oblivious to what had just happened between Lester and me.

At least, I hoped he was oblivious.

Tonight I'd have Tank and Zero waiting outside the front entrance to apprehend my skip. Bobby would be on standby for any injuries. Apparently, Maddie likes to carry. Vince and Junior would take the back entrance. Zip would be behind the bar. Lester and Binkie would enter the club just moments behind me and would be shooting pool, keeping watch.

Pulling on my big girl panties, I steeled my resolve and made my way into the club.


	7. Chapter 5

Hi everyone! Thanks so much for the awesome comments! I love reading each and every one of them and take them all to heart. They really help me build confidence and, of course, encourage me to continue to post.

I have another very busy week this week, so I will try to get as much posted as I can. My semester is winding down, so the shit's really hitting the fan here.

Anyway, the central focus of this chapter was to give a little bit more backstory to Lester. I hope you all enjoy it. It was a little tricky to write.

Standard disclaimers apply: they're not mine.

(SPOV)

My eyes adjusted to the lighting inside the club as I glanced around. The place wasn't overly big, but it was packed, especially for a Thursday night. I hadn't ever really realized that Trenton had such an active gay scene. Granted, I think I may have mentioned before that I've led a rather sheltered life.

Well, I've always made a point to cater to my sense of adventure. I may as well try to enjoy the new experience, right?

And speaking of new experiences, I ran my fingers across my lips. I'm still not completely recovered from that kiss. I don't know what is happening to me.

_Am I attracted to him,_ I asked myself? Well, in all honesty, I'd probably have to be blind not to be. The man oozed sex appeal. The entire tri-state area is probably attracted to Lester. I'd just formerly been immune, what with his harem and all.

But, I couldn't possibly- could I? _No way_, I argued with myself. It's just a simple case of hormones. Truth be told, I haven't had a social orgasm in months – I shouldn't be surprised that I'd succumbed to his notorious charms for a moment. Besides, he's my friend. _Well, he used to be my friend_. He's barely even spoken to me in over three months. He doesn't even like me _…or, does he?_

Until tonight, he's treated me so … dispassionately. He's been strictly professional, with an occasional dose of rudeness tossed in, ever since I'd joined Rangeman full-time. There's been none of his formerly typical sexual innuendos, no sidelong glances, no flirty little touches. No more _Beautiful_. Basically, he hasn't been Lester Santos.

Well, it's for the best, in any event. I'm pretty certain that I couldn't handle the _Santos Experience_, anyway.

I shook my head, clearing my confusion. I so don't need to go there. I need to be fully focused tonight.

OK, Maddie, where are you hiding? I didn't see her; though our sources have assured us she's here. Taking a page out of Ranger's book, I sat at a table in the corner of the room, my back to the wall. I continued surveying the room, looking for my skip, and waited for my guys to 'arrive'.

Hmmm, so, what do I know about lesbians? I mean they aren't really much different than me, right? They just prefer a different set of anatomy.

At least I think so, anyway. Probably it isn't quite so simple.

At last, I caught sight of her, seated on the far side of the bar. She's tall- nearly 5'10" I'd say, and she has a very sturdy, muscular build. Somehow despite this, she's actually very pretty. She has chestnut, layered hair that fell just past her shoulders. She's sporting a pretty deep tan, despite the season, and I knew from the file that she has wide-set, bright green eyes. She was wearing a pair of dark blue designer jeans and a green silk blouse.

Anyway, I should probably let her see me checking out her ladies or something. Maybe that would get her attention. Hmmm, for once I need to consider what I liked about pick-ups, rather than what men like. I pondered it for a moment. No, definitely no lady-oogling. I'll have to play this much more subtle than usual. But how to let her think I'm interested is going to be tricky. This is where I lack experience. Guys were such easy pick-ups – flash a little leg, give them a flirty smile, and they're on the hook.

I grinned to myself when I thought back to our pick-up game; perhaps I should have been taking notes.

Minutes later, Lester finally arrived, Binkie trailing not far behind. They made their way toward the bank of pool tables, casting furtive glances around the place, taking in the scene. Our eyes met briefly and, _holy hell_. I felt a warmth course through me, a humming that started at my toes and continued until it reached my cheekbones. I shivered, involuntarily.

Sigh. As if I don't have enough issues in my life.

….

(LPOV)

The lighting in this place really sucks. I scanned the room, trying to get a feel for the crowd tonight as Binkie and I made our way to the pool tables. I caught Stephanie's eye and she immediately flushed. God, if that isn't just the most adorable thing…

Was she remembering our kiss?

Speaking of the kiss, what in the hell was I thinking earlier, laying my lips on hers?

And what was she doing, letting me kiss her?

That kiss was nearly my undoing. I've never felt that way before, and I have no words to describe what I'd felt at that moment: it was some strange combination of lust, terror, and completeness. Whatever that equals. _Whatever that was about._

Here I am, in a gay bar, having finally pulled myself together after that kiss, and now I get to watch her seduce a woman; every man's fantasy, right? All red-blooded hetero men are supposed to salivate at the thought of having two women at the same time.

I pondered that thought for a moment. Actually, scratch that. Sure it's a popular fantasy, but it's not mine; at least I don't think so. If I had Steph, there's no way I'd share, and I'd most definitely never let her go.

_Jesus, where'd that thought come from,_ I wondered? I felt my cock begin to stir down below and I gave myself a mental slap across the face. I guess it's time to remind myself I'm supposed to be keeping on a Steph-free diet.

"You OK there, Lester? You seem a bit distracted." Binkie asked me as we got settled at a pool table.

"I'm just fine. Lets get to work. We're supposed to be a couple, remember that." I said near his ear. I really wasn't in the mood to be hit on tonight.

We got settled into our game and kept watch over Stephanie. I saw her locate our skip and begin her approach. Stephanie looked absolutely amazing tonight; I don't doubt for a second that she'll hook Maddie in record time, but she was _definitely_ a bit nervous.

_C'mon, Steph, you've got this. _I silently cheered her on. If I had one wish for Stephanie, it would be that she'd gain some more self-confidence; though perhaps that will come in time. I made a mental note to help see to that.

Stephanie reached the bar, ordered her drink from Zip, and started to work her magic.

….

(Binkie POV)

I stood at the pool table, nursing my beer as I watched Lester watch Stephanie. He could barely take his eyes off of her; the man was clearly, desperately, head over heels in love with Bomber. I wonder if he realized it? I wonder if the boss man knew? I tried to remember just when it became so obvious to me.

I think it must have been during the de Rossi takedown. It was just Bobby, Lester, Steph and I, and we'd been on a normal surveillance shift. Rangeman had been hit by the flu, hard, so Stephanie had graciously agreed to pick up some additional shifts for us.

She's always been there when we've needed her, God bless her.

Anyway, we'd been in two separate vehicles on Stark; Les and Bobby had been paired in one and Steph and I were partnered for the night in the other. We'd gotten a solid tip that de Rossi would be on Stark Street that night; he'd been a 'regular' down there, after all.

He'd been a slippery, dangerous son of a bitch, too. He was wanted for two counts of arson, and he'd slipped through our fingers twice already.

We were on hour three of our shift and Stephanie and Lester had been driving us crazy. Neither of them has ever been real quiet out on surveillance, and that night was no different. They'd started out the night playing 20 questions via our radio and had just moved on to I-Spy. The two of them were almost like elementary school kids when they worked together. If it weren't so damn annoying, it might be cute.

Or a badass word for cute, anyway.

Lester had just gained visual of our skip entering a townhouse one block west of us. Almost on the spot, he'd made the call for us to go after him. We quickly formulated a plan: Steph and I would take the front door (they always make a run for it through the back door, right?) and Les and Bobby would cover the back. Easy-peasy.

Only, he didn't make a run for it. Stephanie had knocked on the door, identifying herself as a BEA – standard procedure. Instead of high tailing it out of there- he'd snatched Steph from the porch, right in front of me, taking her hostage. It had been so unexpected that I'd stood there, almost completely unable to react.

Then, he'd almost simultaneously locked the doors and barricaded them in. God only knows what he'd placed in front of the door – I'd been unable to move it.

I'd been verging on frantic. I immediately called for back-up, both from Rangeman and TPD, but the closest available guys were nearly 10 minutes out. Within the two minutes it took us to communicate and formulate a plan, smoke began to billow out from the windows on the east side of the building. My stomach had sunk, certain we'd lose her. By the amount of smoke already visible, it was clear an accelerant was used.

Can you say, FUBAR? Skip disregarded, we'd ultimately broken several windows in order to enter the building. We methodically searched for her, calling for her. My fear mounted as each and every call went unanswered. The smoke was thickening; we were clearly running out of time.

At last, Lester was the one who'd found her. Stephanie had been restrained in the bathroom and rendered unconscious. The emotion that Lester's face had taken on as he looked her over can only be described as panic.

She'd been secured to the pedestal vanity with a heavy-gauge rope. We all held our breath as he felt for her pulse and then immediately freed her from her restraints, his own hands visibly shaking. He'd gently picked her up, cradled her to his chest, and we'd all ran like hell from the burning building. It had been much too close.

Bobby ran to get his medic bag from our parked SUV. Lester just simply ran _away_. I'd followed him, in case he needed help with Steph. As soon as we'd managed to get a safe distance from the building, Les had collapsed to his knees, softly laying Stephanie on the ground. His words had surprised me then:

"Stephanie, hermosa, despierta amante. Lo siento mucho. Nunca debí dejar que se fuera de mi vista. Por favor, abre los ojos. Tengo que ver los hermosos ojos azules. Por favor, Steph, despierta. Te necesitamos. El mundo te necesita. Te necesito. No puedo perder."

("Stephanie, beautiful, wake up sweetheart. I'm so sorry. I never should have let you out of my sight. Please, open your eyes. I need to see you beautiful blue eyes. Please, Steph, wake up. We need you. The world needs you. I need you. I can't lose you.")

For a few moments, Lester had been completely oblivious to anything but Stephanie's lifeless form. His hands were frantically running over her body, searching for injuries, stroking her face; assuring his inner demons of her relative safety. The instant he'd pulled himself together, he'd called for Bobby to look her over. The entire process had taken maybe two minutes.

Lester had refused any sort of medical treatment. She'd been admitted with a moderate concussion and smoke inhalation and she'd spent three days, two nights in the hospital. Lester hadn't moved from her side; that is, until Ranger showed. Immediately upon his arrival, he'd dismissed Les with a curt nod.

Les didn't return. Steph had awoken several hours later to a waiting, smiling Ranger, without any notion that, despite the personnel shortage at Rangeman, Ranger had been holed up, undercover, on a job assisting Jeanne Ellen. In fact, he'd even waited for the job to finish before he'd come to her- not that I'd have really expected any less from the boss.

It's not that he doesn't care about her; he obviously does. It's just who he is. He can't help his commitment to the job. I can only assume that it's why he avoids relationships; but it wouldn't have made her hurt any less if she'd known that he'd been so close, but hadn't come.

He's right – Steph deserves better than what he can offer her.

To this day, Stephanie has no idea just how affected Lester had been after that night; has inkling of just how much he'd blamed himself for that entire FUBAR'd takedown - no matter how much we've tried to convince him otherwise. The skip did it, not Les.

But it remains that she has no idea that it had been Les at her bedside for 45 hours, holding her hand and praying for her to wake, unscathed; unable or unwilling to eat or sleep until he knew she was going to be ok. That is, until Ranger took over.

She also has no clue that, in the privacy of the rented car we'd shared, Lester had quietly flipped out when she'd disappeared with that Alexander guy; terrified that he'd let her down; afraid that he'd led her to be hurt once again, on his watch.

And maybe, I imagine he'd been just a little bit jealous.

….

(LPOV)

About a year ago, Stephanie had jokingly called me the "pickup God". Perhaps she'd even thought it to be true; after all, she'd had the misfortune to see me at my worst a few weekends in a row after I'd returned from a rather fucked-up mission.

Thank God I'm done with those now. I'd never trade my Army days for anything, but I was glad my decisions were my own for the first time in my adult life.

Anyway, in that vein, watching her now, I'd definitely have to describe her as the Goddess of the Pickup - she's really got a talent for them. Her nervousness tonight is only adding to her appeal, and I'm not the only one noticing; in the fifteen minutes we'd all been in here, she's developed quite the fan club. I think Maddie is its President.

Steph was as endearing as ever, and within minutes had our skip eating out of her hand. At the moment, Maddie has her fingers gently splayed and resting on Steph's left hip and she's whispering in her ear. Maddie is speaking so quietly that the mic isn't able to pick it up.

Stephanie made eye contact with her, then treated her to a seductive little smile. She signaled to Zip and ordered Maddie another drink, a vodka tonic. I surveyed the room as they continued their small talk. Stephanie was touching the skip with light caresses, fully engaged in their conversation. If I didn't know any better, I'd think Steph was really enjoying herself. I felt a bizarre surge of envy at that thought. _God, she's good at this_, I thought. _Focus, Santos_, I reminded myself.

Stephanie spoke, "I just don't understand what it is I am doing wrong, Maddie! I just can't find a partner that is as adventurous as I am. My last girlfriend just flat-out refused to even consider using a dildo – she said I was 'tainting' the purity of our bond. I'd just been so bored with her – she had no imagination. Don't get me wrong, I love a good personal connection as much as the next woman, but what I really needed then, what I really need right now is a good, mind-blowing fuck!"

Binkie choked, spitting his beer. I offered him a rueful smile. He's kind-of new to these.

"Mmmm, honey, I think I just may have _exactly_ what you need," Maddie replied.

"Are you sure about that?" Steph lowered her voice. "You know, maybe I don't deserve it. I have been a _very_ naughty girl lately," Steph purred.

Oh, Christ Almighty.

Maddie giggled. "Darling, I think I know just the thing. What do you say we head to my place, where I can exact your punishment," Maddie replied.

Stephanie pretended to consider her suggestion, then casted a sultry glance her way. "For tonight, I'll take you up on that, Maddie. Lets see what you've got." Stephanie stood, pulling Maddie behind her. "I'll show you to my car."

I signaled the rest of guys so they knew we were making our way out.

They began making their way around the bar. "Oh, I don't think so, you dirty little girl. You'll come with me." At that, we were all instantly on full alert.

Maddie had just asserted her dominance on Steph, and she had a good three inches and forty pounds on her. This is not good. I signaled Binkie to follow my lead, just as Maddie started forcefully tugging Stephanie toward the back of the bar.

"Maddie? Maddie, you're being a little rough."

"All part of our little game, right sweetie?"

"Maddie, lets take this slow, we've got all night!" Steph was starting to panic.

"Oh, I definitely plan to take advantage of you, all night long, baby," Maddie replied.

My breath caught in my chest and my heart began to race. We can't lose sight of her. At this point, they were heading down a hallway near the private rooms. While the hall led to a back exit, there were several unlocked rooms available. We were going to have to stay on top of this.

Binkie and I tried to discreetly follow them. Adrenaline flowing freely, I began to formulate a plan.

….

(SPOV)

_Oh, God, it's going to happen again!_ I thought to myself. My heartrate was quickening and I sensed the anxiety beginning to take over. _Think, Steph!_

As we entered a darkened hallway near the rear exit, she grabbed me, spinning me around and tossing me against the wall; my face dug into the textured walls. Maddie ground her cunt into my ass, moving my hair from my neck, almost nuzzling me. She effectively restrained both of my hands within one of her larger ones, and started to nibble on my neck. She slid her free hand, her right hand, around the front of my body, and her fingers started to creep up my leg, under the hem of my dress, to my most private place.

All of the blood rushed from my brain and panic ran rampant. _I'm going to faint_, I thought to myself. _I can't faint. I need to be able to fight back_, I argued.

I silently pleaded to the guys to get here quickly. Overwhelmed, my brain began to flashback to my only similar experience to date.

"Ohh, yeah, angel. We're going to have a good time. Yeah, just relax into me, baby. I bet you're already dripping wet, ready for me."

I opened my mouth, intending to plead with her to let me go. "Maddie? Maddie, please, let me-." At that moment, I felt a blade against neck. I quieted. My tears began to flow, and I receded into myself just as I had all those years ago.

….

(LPOV)

Oh, shit. We took a moment to recon and formulate a new plan; we hadn't anticipated Maddie attempting to keep her within the building. We broke up into teams of 3, with Bobby remaining outside waiting for instruction and Zip staying in position behind the bar, waiting for TPD.

On my count of three, we'd approached Maddie from both directions. I felt my heart constrict at the vision before me. She had a knife pressed to Stephanie's sweet, delicate neck. Stephanie had her eyes closed, withdrawn, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.

Tank spoke up first, "Drop your weapon."

Maddie just laughed a dry, humorless laugh and slowly turned her head. The woman is truly deranged. "Yeah? And just what are you going to do about it?" She glanced up, and then visibly recoiled when she realized that six large, armed men had her surrounded.

"It would be wise to cooperate with us, Maddie. Let her go." I added.

"Go to hell!" she shouted.

I cocked my gun and took a step closer to her. She was about six feet away from me.

"Move another inch, and I'll kill her, right now." At that statement, Stephanie visibly tensed, but remained silent, her breathing becoming erratic.

She cautiously opened her eyes and made eye contact with me, holding my gaze. She glanced at my weapon, then back to me. She took a slow, deep breath, and then again closed her eyes.

I knew I had to get Stephanie away from Maddie, but with how tightly she had that knife pressed to her, I had to exercise extreme caution about how to go about it. If I shot her, she would very likely still have enough time to injure Steph. I glanced over to Tank who was approaching Stephanie from behind. We communicated silently. _Steph would hate that,_ I briefly thought to myself. We needed to distract her and get her to drop the knife- there was no other way.

As if reading _our_ thoughts (and she claims she doesn't have ESP!), at that moment Stephanie threw back her head, meeting Maddie's forehead with a loud _whack_. Shock registering on her face, Maddie took a small step back in surprise. Encouraged, Stephanie then threw back her right elbow and caught our skip in her stomach. I felt a fleeting sense of pride before jumping into action.

It was just enough of a distraction. The skip almost immediately doubled over in pain. Taking advantage of her preoccupation, I threw myself toward her, knocking her off her feet to fully free Steph.

Taking advantage of the commotion, Tank charged us and grasped Stephanie, pulling her into his arms. The other two men that were with him surrounded her, and they ushered her out of the back door. _Thank God._

At that instant, I felt a searing pain as her knife made contact with my flesh.


	8. Chapter 6

Thanks again for the great reviews! I should like a broken record here, but I love hearing from you all! You're all so kind.

This chapter is a bit shorter to the others, but it was a good place to leave off. I hope you all enjoy it!

I hope to post again by the weekend.

….

(SPOV)

A dull throbbing echoed within my head as Tank rushed me out of the club's rear exit, surrounded by a sea of black. That Maddie's head was hard as a rock, that's for sure. I rubbed small circles on the back of my head, trying to ease the pain. As I slowly got a grasp of my surroundings, I realized that the entire back parking lot was overrun by Trenton's finest. There had to be at least half a dozen police cars. Two ambulances also remained on standby. _Overkill much?_ I wondered to myself.

Tank eased his grip on me, but stuck close to my side. My heart rate was slowly returning to normal and I was beginning to crash from the adrenaline. That was entirely too close- I'd nearly lost it in there.

I tried to take inventory of the boys in blue. I could see Big Dog, cousin Eddie and oh, goody. Wait for it…

"Cupcake! You know, I think you may have actually surpassed a new record. It's been how long since you've caused some trouble? I'd actually thought about giving up my stock in Maalox," Joe stated.

"Gee, thanks, Joe. And I'm fine, thanks. Not a scratch on me."

Surprisingly, Joe turned his attention to Tank. "What is the status of the situation?"

"Three men and the skip inside yet," was Tank's curt reply. He crossed his arms across his massive chest, blank face firmly in place, ever on surveillance.

The air surrounding us immediately turned tense and my saviors in black sprung into action. He passed me off to Joe, instructing him not to let me out of his sight. Within seconds, Bobby bounded around the building. Tank, Vince and Zero joined him and they stormed the building, guns blazing. My panic began to resurface.

One of these days I'm going to insist on wearing a receiver.

Joe had an iron grip on me and was dragging me towards his TPD-issued POS. "Joe, let me go!" I fought to free myself from his grasp. "I'm not leaving!"

"Cupcake, there's no longer anything for you to do here. We need to get you home and changed into something decent," he said, appraising my body. "Not that I don't appreciate the view, but honestly, honey, you're dressed like a whore. What if someone sees you? You do realize this is a gay bar, right? Your mom's phone will be ringing off the hook."

"Yes, I'm aware, and I could give a shit right now! My friends are in there, and the skip is armed."

"Stephanie," Joe started, sounding exasperated, "You have eight men inside to one woman, I think they've probably got it under control."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Binkie and Junior burst through the doors with Maddie in custody. Vince bounded through the door next, but he signaled for the paramedics.

No! No way – one of my guys better not be hurt. I threw back my hip and wrenched myself from Joe's grip, no doubt surprising him. I sprinted for the building, ignoring Joe's calls and pushing myself past Vince. As soon as my eyes landed on Lester in that dank hallway, my heart plummeted. Oh, God, no! Not my Lester. I ran to his side, tears streaming down my face.

He wasn't conscious. "Oh, Les!" I cried. "Les, honey. I'm here. You're going to be ok. I'm going to take good care of you, I promise!" I sobbed, gripping his hand, taking assessment of his injuries. "I'm so sorry. It's all my fault!"

Oh, God. There's so much blood.

….

(LPOV)

I heard the robotic cadence of the machines before anything else seeped into my consciousness. Beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep. And on it goes.

Jesus, that sound is annoying. As I continued to gain awareness, the very next thing that I gathered was that I was not alone; I felt the smallness of a female hand holding mine. _Could it be?_ I wondered, hoped.

_Hoped_?

Though it was a battle, I fought to open my eyes.

_My Beautiful_.

She was seated on a hospital chair, to my left, wearing a black Rangeman t-shirt and flannel lounge pants. Judging by their size, I don't think they were hers. Her hair was a messy tangle of curls, and she appeared to be sound asleep. Her head was resting on my bed, her right hand holding mine. Her left hand was positioned lightly over my stomach.

She looked so peaceful in her slumber, like an angel. I could not help the way my heart constricted within my chest. _What is she doing here?_ I wondered.

Movement to my right caught my eye- Bobby was seated on a couch. Noticing I was alert, he slowly approached my bed. He offered me a sip of water.

"Glad to see you awake, Les."

I gently cleared my throat; _God did that hurt_, and whispered, "How long?"

He assumed his medic role; "EMTs brought you in about 22 hours ago. You were in bad shape, bro. The skip had a 4" blade, and she'd sunk the entire thing into your chest. It was touch and go for a bit there. You've lost a lot of blood, and the knife _just_ punctured your pleural sac. We're talking fractions of an inch, Les. It's bad enough as it is, man, but a few more millimeters to your left and she'd have absolutely _shredded_ your lung."

I took a moment to absorb the news. Not good, but could've been much, much worse. I've survived worse. "Steph?"

"Is perfect. She was a little shaken given your condition and what nearly happened to her, but she's otherwise just fine. Hector brought up some things for her to wear when he checked in on you after his shift this afternoon; he also encouraged her to finally eat something."

I slowly let out the breath that I hadn't been aware I was holding. That explains her current wardrobe. Hector has a real shady past, but he is turning into a great man; Ranger and I have known him since he was just a kid. "Recovery?" I asked him.

"You're lucky. You can probably be discharged to my care by sometime tomorrow, as long as we keep infection at bay, but you'll need some time off to heal. You'll probably be on light duty for a bit."

I inwardly groaned. I am not a desk person. "The skip?"

"Is in custody. Binkie took her down."

"No other injuries?"

"No, none."

I nodded my head, relieved. I inclined my head toward Stephanie. "She should go home, get a good night's sleep."

"Yeah, good luck with that one," Bobby cryptically replied. "She hasn't left your side, Les, except for when you were in surgery. At this point, I'm just happy she's finally sleeping."

With that statement, my heart began to soar. I reminded myself not to read too much into it; she was always there for us when we were hurt. Bobby continued, "Your last dose of meds is probably going to kick in any second. Get some rest, Les. Your body needs it."

At that, I stifled a yawn. Suddenly, I felt exhausted, weary to the bone. I took his suggestion and let myself fall into oblivion.

…

Some time later, I rejoined the land of the living. At the moment, the monitors seemed to be gone, or at least silenced. Sunlight streamed into the room, highlighting the clinical elements of my temporary prison. White walls? Check. Fluorescent lighting? Check. Strong scent of disinfectant? Check.

A glance to my left revealed a tear-stained Stephanie, sitting again in that same damned chair, gripping my hand. She's wearing another black Rangeman T-shirt, but a different pair of flannel pants. She must have showered fairly recently; I can smell the scent of her shampoo in the air- like a blend of coconut and vanilla.

She hasn't noticed I'm awake yet; she's staring off toward the window, completely unaware.

So, what are the rules here? Do I interrupt her? Pretend I'm still sleeping?

Her tears were really getting to me- she just looked so sad, defeated. Interrupting won. "Steph?" I asked. My voice, out of practice, was nearly a whisper.

She spun her head around look at me and wailed, "Oh, Les! You're awake! Oh my God, I am so sorry." She squeezed my hand. "Are you OK? I mean- I know you're not _OK_, but are you in any pain? Jesus, I could have gotten you _killed_!"

OK, so maybe I shouldn't have interrupted her - she's bordering on hysterical now. _Way to go, genius_. I opened my mouth to reply, but she continued on before I could form any words.

I'm actually kind of awestruck. Stephanie was standing now, having dropped my hand, and was beginning to pace the room. I really missed her hand.

_I missed her hand? Did I hit my head or something?_

"I was so terrified Les. I never should have let her lead me toward the back. I should have convinced her to leave through the front entrance. Once she pinned me – I totally panicked. I was so scared it would happen again. I'd thought I was getting past it, and ... I couldn't …I wasn't …" Her tears were multiplying, her voice nearing a whisper now. "I shut down, Les. Until I saw you there, I'd just… I'd completely shut down. I'm so sorry."

Rant finished, she collapsed back into the chair and resumed holding my hand, letting loose gut-wrenching sobs. My head was spinning and it had nothing to do with my meds. _Did she really blame herself for my injury? That's insane. _I was speechless. Further, I've had no formal training in exactly what it is I was supposed to do next. I guess I must have skipped _Hysterical Female 101_.

_You'd better think of something!_ I yelled at myself. Attempting a deep breath, I extracted my hand from hers and began to gently run my fingers through her sleep-tousled hair. How is it that her hair is so soft? "Steph, it's not your fault. If anything, you saved the day," I said, honestly.

"No, I shouldn't have interfered with whatever you guys had planned. The skip got angry and she attacked you, and half of your team was busy helping me instead of-"

I cut her off this time. "No, Steph. Our priority was to get you out of there, unharmed. You provided the means for us to accomplish that. My injury is just a minor price to pay for your safety. I'll heal. Besides, we still got our girl. Mission accomplished."

"But you… I…" she stuttered.

"Beautiful, it's a risk I was prepared to take. I've been hurt much worse. It's just a scratch." I replied. Her eyes met mine, searching; seeking the truth in my statement.

"Must be some scratch to require an operation," boomed an authoritative voice from the doorway. In walked what I assumed was my surgeon, judging by his attire. He was a portly man with a full head of dark hair and intelligent eyes. I'd guess he was in his mid-fifties.

"You're not helping me out much here, doc," I said.

"Not my place to, Mr. Santos," was his immediate reply. "You had a close call." At his statement, Stephanie's entire body tensed and she gripped my hand - which had apparently still been woven in her silky mop of curls. "I trust Mr. Brown briefed you on your condition already?" I nodded and he continued, "The good news is you've remained stable through the night. Should you remain so, you may be discharged later this evening into his care.

That said, you are not completely out of the woods yet, young man. You'll need to remain on bed rest for the next 2-3 days. You may get up to shower once per day, with prompt replacement of your bandages. Remember - you've lost a lot of blood. While you've been given several transfusions, you'll likely remain lightheaded for some time and you cannot be left alone until it abates. We'll need someone to sign on as your caretaker before we'll clear you to leave."

Steph surprised me by speaking up, "That's not a problem, doctor. I'll stay with him."

"Stephanie-" I started.

"No, Les. It makes sense. Eagle is supposed to start on Wednesday, and Bobby needs to prep for his arrival. All I've got is Rex depending on me at home. It's the least I can do. Besides, we're partners; I doubt I'll be in the field without you at this point, and I can do any necessary research from your apartment on four while you recover. Let me do this – let me repay you. Please."

In the span of ten seconds, she effectively refuted any and all potential objections I may have had. She made some good points, and I could hardly argue against them. What family I do have is all the way in Miami, and with me down and Ranger in the wind, we'll be short staffed enough – I can't in good conscience ask one of the guys to pull babysitting duty.

At least together maybe we could still get some work done in-house. I took a deep breath; the thought of Stephanie in my personal space was both terrifying and strangely appealing. I've never let a woman in my home before. Reluctantly, I nodded to the doctor.

"Glad to have this settled. Today is Monday. I'll see you for a follow-up appointment on Friday morning. We'll discuss further restrictions then, depending on how you're healing. Any questions?"

"Not at the moment, but our company medic will need a full briefing," I replied.

"Noted. It will be taken care of before discharge. Have him call my office." With a warm smile, he turned and left the room.

"Thank you," Stephanie said once we were alone, her relief apparent.

I looked at her in disbelief, "For what?" I asked.

"For letting me take care of you. I know things between us have been …_strained_ lately. I just-" she sighed and leaned back in the chair and ran her fingers through her hair, removing all contact from me. She stared out of the window, her voice softening, "I was really worried. About you, I mean. I like you, Les, and I care about you a lot. I don't know what it is that I did to upset you, but I really hope we can fix this. Fix us. Become friends again."

Well, what do you say to something like that? I've been a jerk. She's been nothing but kind and accepting toward the guys and me, and here I've treated her like a leper, trying to keep her out the past few months. I couldn't help it – the woman had just completely snuck up on me, seemingly out of nowhere. But probably I should stop with the jackass treatment – especially as she was going to be helping me. _And oh, did I hate the thought of being a burden to her._

Finally, I settled on, "Stephanie, I appreciate your help –particularly that you're willing to sacrifice your personal space to help me through this," it was my turn to sigh. "It isn't easy to accept, and to be completely honest, if I had a better option I'd probably exercise it. Not because I don't care for you, because I do, but because I can't stand being vulnerable.

You've been a better friend to me than I deserve. And I hope you can someday forgive me for being such an ass these past few months. I'll try. I can't promise a miracle, but I'll try." I replied.

She met my gaze. "That's all I ask." she replied with a small smile on her face.

"But we need to clarify one thing. While on bed rest I'd prefer to stay in my home, if it's all the same to you," I said.

"Isn't Rangeman home?" She asked.

"No, I bought a house about a year ago. I do have an apartment on four for emergencies, but I'd feel most comfortable with some space between the guys and me while I recover. Lets just say we'd have a lot of company there."

"As long as I can bring Rex, it doesn't matter where we stay."

I smiled at that thought. She's so protective toward that little furry guy. "Well, then, Chez Santos, here we come," I said.


	9. Chapter 7

Thanks again for your reviews! I know a couple of you asked what days I plan to update. For the next couple of weeks yet, it'll probably vary while I finish my semester. Only a little over 3 weeks left! Then I get the summer off! Woohoo!

I'll plan to always update on Sundays, and _at least_ one other time during the week. With my school schedule and my daughter's gymnastics schedule, it'll be tough for me to promise a specific evening right now. Once school is done, I'll have lots of time during the day to get stuff out.

I've written about 20,000 words in advance (the rest is outlined) at the moment, though I do continually edit, often prolonging my posting. I am a bit of a perfectionist, and need something to be just right before I post. I know it'll never be perfect (especially being my first time and without a beta), but I can't help for trying!

Thanks so much for reading! And I do really love your reviews and messages!

Previously:

"_As long as I can bring Rex, it doesn't matter where we stay."_

_I smiled at that thought. She's so protective toward that little furry guy. "Well, then, Chez Santos, here we come," I said. _

….

(SPOV)

Lester and I spent the remainder of the day and much of Tuesday alternating between watching television, napping and playing spades. He was still in a good amount of pain yesterday (though he tried to hide it), so to Lester's dismay, the doctor hadn't been comfortable sending him home. For that, I was secretly kind of glad, as it was difficult to see him in so much pain.

I'd remained at the hospital and we were actually getting along pretty well. It was almost like it was before, though Lester was still a bit cautious. Overall, it was a huge improvement, and he seemed to be relaxing some with me. He had remained stable throughout the day today, and his pain was much more controlled, so the doctor has finally agreed to discharge him.

Tank had just come to check in on him, so I took the opportunity to run home to get things in order for my stay at Chez Santos.

I waited patiently at the entrance to my apartment while Manny and Hector checked my place over for bad guys. When I received the all-clear, I headed straight to my bedroom to pack a suitcase_. I wonder if packing a whole suitcase would be presumptuous?_ Or, should I stick to a large duffle bag? Figuring I'll be at Lester's for at least a week or so, I opted to bring the suitcase. I'll need to figure in my shoes, after all.

I finally settled on packing three Rangeman uniforms, two pairs of jeans, two t-shirts and a sweater. I also added some workout clothes for good measure. Probably, I won't need anything dressy; I'll just be working out of Lester's place for the most part. I tossed in a couple of pairs of sneakers, my running shoes, and two of my favorite pairs of black pumps. Just in case. I took a moment and glanced around the room. I felt like I was forgetting something.

I froze. _Sleepwear_! I'll need some sleepwear. What should I pack to sleep in? I wandered over to my lingerie drawer. My options were somewhat limited to Ranger's t-shirts and, well, _lingerie_. It didn't matter that my bed had been empty for more months than I cared to acknowledge – my taste still ran toward the skimpy. Hey- what can I say? I was a lingerie buyer for Christ's sake! Old habits die hard.

Aha! I scrounged up one pair of flannel pajama bottoms leftover from college (or was it even pre-college? I wondered). I hope Lester likes Eeyore, because he's plastered all over them. I also rustled up a pale pink satin tank/boy short combo. Finally, I tossed a couple extra of my Rangeman t-shirts in there. That'll have to do.

I quickly made my way to the bathroom and started systematically dumping my toiletries and various small hair appliances into the suitcase.

"You know, this isn't a race, Steph," Manny called from the living room, laughing. "At this rate you'll have this entire place packed before dinner."

"Si, Stephanie. Take your time – we have nowhere else to be. It will be awhile until you're home again, yes?" Hector asked.

I sighed and met them in the living room. It seemed they were watching a baseball game. "You're right, but I know Lester is itching to get home. The sooner I get packed, the sooner I get back there and the sooner he gets his wish."

"Bomber, Bobby said he'd meet us there at 7:00 for discharge. He's finishing up some year-end reports. It's only 4:00 now; we have plenty of time," Manny argued.

"Thanks, Manny. I just know I'd hate to be alone in the hospital if it were me, so I was trying to avoid leaving him alone for too long." I paced the room a couple of times - I was full of nervous energy for some reason.

"That's nice of you, Steph, but you've been at his side for three days straight. You don't need to feel guilty for enjoying a couple of hours of freedom. Why don't you take a shower and we can go out and eat some dinner before we head back?" He continued.

I considered doing just that. "What if I take you up on the offer for a shower, and then we grab Pino's on the way back to the hospital? That way we can feed Lester, too, and you guys can visit for awhile?" I offered, hoping Lester would appreciate eating some real food – he'd obviously not been a fan of the hospital fare.

"That'll work," he answered. He donned an evil little smile. "Let me know if you need some help in there, Steph."

I smacked him on his arm. "Not a chance in hell, Manny. Not a chance in hell." I walked back into the bathroom, chuckling.

"Can't blame a guy for trying!" he replied, a smile in his voice.

…

When we got back to the hospital, the mood was much lighter than it had been. Certainly, Lester was looking forward to busting out of there and sleeping in his own bed. Bobby finally arrived just as we were finishing up our pizza.

"Nice of you all to wait for the medic. I see how it is," he joked.

"Hey, we're just being respectful of your commitment to clean living," said Manny. "I was just about to rid the room of the evidence," He was on a roll today.

"Smartass," Bobby countered, chuckling.

Hector gestured to the pizza and said something in Spanish. I furrowed a brow. Hey, I was definitely picking up the language, but that man simply talked too fast. I imagine he offered him a leftover slice.

Bobby feigned a sigh. "Once again, I only rate leftovers – I'm hurt." _Yep, I guessed right._

The guys all started to chuckle.

"Out loud?" I asked.

"Yep, out loud." Lester answered with a smile.

"Ready to get the show on the road?" Bobby asked, pizza in hand.

"Fuck, yeah!" was Lester's reply, beginning to rise from the bed.

"Oh, no you don't!" a cranky-looking, middle-aged woman exclaimed from the door, pushing an empty wheelchair. I had to stifle a laugh at Lester's absolutely horrified expression.

Lester was totally convinced he was walking out of there under his own steam. Despite receiving some of his most intimidating expressions, the nurse still adamantly refused to back down. I really had to give the poor woman some credit – his looks have made grown men so terrified, they'd pissed themselves, but she took him on, toe-to-toe. After about ten minutes of argument, he finally sat in the wheelchair, wheeling himself through the hospital corridor. Walking safely behind him, I couldn't help but smile to myself.

….

Lester and I were currently nestled in the back seat of a Rangeman Explorer, with Bobby and Tank serving as our chauffeurs-du-jour. I'd almost immediately drifted off to sleep after we left the hospital, the past few days finally catching up to me.

Over an hour later, I wakened as we pulled into the driveway of an adorable old colonial home. It was limestone with red trim, and nestled on a large, wooded lot. I blinked, trying to clear the fog. To say I was surprised was an understatement. I glanced over at Lester.

"Welcome to Chez Santos," he offered with a crooked grin. I melted a little. Oh, boy. I'm so going to have to get used to those.

"Where the hell are we?" I asked, convinced I was in some bizarre dream. I'd totally pictured Lester with a high-tech condo of a man cave somewhere. This, I'd have never expected.

"We're at my house," he replied, being deliberately obtuse.

"No shit, Sherlock. What the hell _state_ are we in?" my confusion was turning into irritation. I didn't recognize the area, at all.

Lester smirked. "We're in New Hope, PA."

"Pennsylvania?" I shrieked.

"The one and only," he replied, exiting the car. At the same time, Tank opened my car door, my suitcase in-hand. I flinched, having forgotten that he was there in the first place. I've got to be more aware of my surroundings.

Lester gestured to the building. "This old farmhouse was originally built in the early 1700s. It sat empty, rundown, in the early 1900s, until a couple purchased the place in the 1950s, and they made some renovations and added on. I bought the place from their son a little over a year ago. I haven't spent much time here since I've bought it, as I've hired a crew to do some major restorations. They're nearly finished, and I have managed to spend my off weekends here for the past couple of months," he offered in explanation.

I still just stood there, mouth agape. "A _farmhouse_?" I asked him. He placed his finger under my jaw, closing my mouth.

"Yeah, a farmhouse," he replied, cryptic as ever. He nudged me, encouraging me up the front porch, removing his keys from his jacket pocket. I have to say, he was moving pretty quickly considering he was stabbed just a few days ago.

As I walked into his home, I found myself in a large foyer. I removed my coat and my shoes, and placed them into the closet as I'd just watched Lester do. I tried my best to get a sense of the man who stood in front of me, but at the moment, my head was swimming with new details. For Pete's sake, there were plants along the windowsill to my right. I don't even have plants. Probably, I've killed more plants than Lester has people.

"I highly doubt that, Beautiful," Lester said, with a serious expression on his face.

Oh, God. I really needed to learn to filter my thoughts. I offered him a small smile. "Actually, Lester, it's probably true. I haven't had a plant last more than a couple of months."

"Then why would you buy them?" asked a curious Bobby.

"Optimism?" I wondered aloud. That earned a roar of laughter from the guys. At least it lightened the mood, I guess.

Bobby patted me on my shoulder and said, "Only you, Bomber, only you." he shook his head. "You should try a bamboo plant, they're notoriously difficult to kill."

I frowned. "Really?" He nodded. I sighed. "I've murdered three of them."

Bobby and Tank laughed until they cried. I cringed, remembering their short little plant lives. I glanced to my left, toward Lester. He was staring at me with an odd look on his face. He shook his head, as if to clear it, then led us into his kitchen.

I sucked in a deep breath. His home was really beautiful; and it was surprisingly sort-of _arty_. The room wasn't small, but it wasn't overly large, either. The kitchen was L-shaped, definitely state of the art, and decorated in hues of reds and browns. A small table sat in the corner. All of the fixtures were polished and well cared-for, but were definitely antique.

"I've done my best to restore the house to its original state, but I did leave the addition as it was pretty solid. The foyer, this kitchen, and the covered porch are all part of the addition. I found many of the fixtures myself, and while they're obviously not original to the home, they fit the time period."

He took a deep breath and continued, walking us through the room. "The former kitchen was pretty small, and was converted into a large bathroom in the 50s. Currently, the rest of the house is largely unchanged from the original version, with the exception of the master bath."

I nodded, speechless. He seemed very proud of his home, and rightfully so. He continued on to give us all the nickel tour. I was shocked to discover that Tank had never been here before, and Bobby hadn't seen the place since Lester started his renovations. Maybe he isn't quite the social butterfly I thought he was. _Or, maybe he prefers his company to be female_, I reasoned to myself.

As we walked, my mind was reeling, taking everything in. I absolutely loved his house, and the peek it gave me into Lester. It seemed so contradictory, and each room left me more and more astonished. The fixtures were all original, but the appliances and electronics were obviously cutting-edge. The outside screamed "old, quaint farmhouse", yet the artwork and décor was very modern and was definitely very eclectic.

His home seemed to violate every decorating rule there was, though it really worked. It seemed to scream 'fuck-off rules, this is me'.

The living room was done in a sea of blues and greens, with luxurious brown leather furniture. The windows stretched along the western wall and would definitely provide a gorgeous view of the sunset. Said windows were certainly leaded glass, and even though it was nearly nightfall, I could tell it showed off the expanse that was his backyard. There were cream-colored pillows in various shades and sizes scattered about and a cozy-looking blue throw blanket was draped over the couch. Picture frames littered the end tables, and I couldn't wait to scope them out. A 50" plasma television took center stage on the wall to my left, and a large, brick natural fireplace sat in the corner of the room.

Next to the formal living room was the formal dining room. It housed a very large, antique farmhouse-style table that looked to seat 12 comfortably, and the room was fairly rustic, done mostly in greens and cream. There was a formal buffet and a gorgeous, built-in china cabinet.

We continued on through the large bathroom, the den and the covered porch. We ascended the stairs, and we were on the second floor. At the top of the stairs, Lester steadied himself for a moment, the activity of the day catching up to him. I rushed to his side, but Bobby beat me there.

He spoke to Lester in a low voice, "Careful, Lester. I know you're used to being in control and that you hate showing any kind of weakness, but you need to remember you're only three days out from surgery."

Lester nodded, taking his words to heart, and then continued to speak. "This floor has four bedrooms and three baths. The master is down the hall, on the left, and it has its own bathroom, of course. It actually adjoins the room across the hall. That's the smallest bedroom, and is the former nursery. I use it as my office, of course. Stephanie, you can choose between the other two rooms while you stay. The one facing east has its own bathroom, and it's a bit larger, though you'll get the sun in the morning. The room facing west shares a wall with my bedroom, and is the second-smallest."

I took a small tour of each of the rooms. "I'll take the larger room, with the bath if it's all the same to you," I replied.

This earned smiles from my guys. "I suspected as much," Lester said, and at the same time, I began to yawn.

Tank spoke next, "Lester, Steph, you've both got to be exhausted. Why don't you both take an early night? Steph, I'll bring your things up and get Rex settled for you. Bobby, why don't you give Lester one last check-up before we head out?"

Bobby answered, "Good plan, Tank. Steph, why don't you get settled, while I get Lester situated." We started to walk down the hall.

I shook my head. "No, Bobby, I should probably watch if I'm supposed to take over his cares."

I entered Lester's bedroom, following them, as Bobby got him settled on the bed. The room was large, and it was exquisite, done entirely in rich blues and browns. The room faced the west, and like the living room, windows lined the entire western wall. A large, mahogany, king-sized bed stood at the center of the opposing wall, and a doorway was visible on the far side of the wall, no doubt leading to his office. A natural fireplace sat in the center of the southern wall. The entrance to the en-suite bath was in the far, southwest corner of the room.

Lester made an aggravated sound, obviously not liking being the topic of discussion. He snapped, "Can we just get this over with? I'm tired of being treated like some kind of lab rat."

Bobby shook his head, ignoring the outburst, removing Lester's shirt. _Oh, wow_, I thought. I checked for drool. "You'd better keep that temper in check, or I won't blame Bomber for running for the hills."

"As if," I complained. "I don't even have my car."

Bobby paused, a perplexed look on his face. He spoke while leading me through Lester's cares, which were actually quite minimal. "Well, hell, Steph. I'd never even considered it. I'm sorry. Eagle and I can bring it by tomorrow."

Les shook his head and spoke, pulling me from my thoughts, "Not necessary. I've got a car here. I'm sure it'll be sufficient. Steph?"

I'd been walking away from the bed when he'd spoken, and I was so shocked that he asked for confirmation that I nearly tripped over an area rug. "That should be fine. He's not supposed to drive for awhile anyway, right?" I asked Bobby.

"Yes, he's restricted for at least a week." He paused, uneasy. "Are you sure about all of this, Stephanie? I could rearrange-"

I cut him off. "Absolutely not. Eagle starts tomorrow, and I know you've been looking forward to it." I continued on, and gave him the same reasoning I'd given Lester. "Besides, I'm sure driving his car would beat driving my Chevy."

Lester grinned. "And that's entirely my point. Beautiful. If you had your car here, you'd stubbornly insist upon driving it. And there's no way I'm getting in that thing unless I have to!"

I lightly smacked him as Tank entered the room. "Hey! No beating the patient!" he exclaimed.

"Awww, dad, you always ruin all my fun!" I joked.

He smiled. "Don't I know it? Now, off to bed, Little Girl; it's past your bedtime and you'll be needing your strength."

I grinned. "Come on, just five more minutes!"

Lester shook his head, with an astonished look on his face. Bobby laughed, grabbing my arm, then giving me a light shove into the hall. "Seriously, Steph - off to bed. Les is settled. You'll need to wake up to re-medicate him in four hours. And we know how pleasant you are on limited sleep," he said, and then the fucker winked.

"For today, Bobby, I'm tired enough that I'll let that go." I did give him a mini-death glare before calling, "Goodnight boys," and gave them a finger wave. At long last, I made my way down the hall.

I entered my temporary bedroom, locked the door, and pulled off my clothes. I barely remembered to set the alarm before I fell into a deep sleep, exhausted.

…

I woke with a start to a racing heart and an unexpected heaviness on my chest. I scrubbed my hands over my face, willing my eyes to open.

Where the hell am I, I wondered? The sunlight brightened the room and did nothing to ease my confusion. My bedroom at home faced west. Slowly, it all started to come back to me. _You're at Lester's, _I reminded myself. I'm at Lester's! Shit. I glanced at the alarm clock – it was nearly 10am. I felt exhausted, despite the nearly 12 hours of sleep I apparently got.

12 hours of sleep? Oh, crap. I must have slept through the alarm for Lester's next dose of pain meds. I can't even go a single day following Bobby's simple directions.

With a resigned groan, I pulled at my covers and encountered a loud _hiss_. "Eeek!" I screeched. "What the hell?" I exclaimed, leaping from bed, cowering.

Lester's barking laughter from the doorway pulled me from my moment of terror. Hmmmm. I swear I locked the bedroom door last night. "Relax, Steph, it's just my cat."

"You're cat?" Yep, genius conversationalist, I am.

"Yes, my cat. I guess he likes you; he's been sleeping on you for at least an hour." Les entered the room, setting a cup of coffee on the end table for me. "By the way, I love your jammies," he added, giving my body a thorough once-over, then retreated from the room.

I flushed a brilliant shade of red. Oh, hell, I'm fucking naked, aren't I? I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to be fully clothed. Slowly, I got up the courage to crack one eye open and glance down. Sigh. Nope. I'm only wearing my black thong panties and a matching demi bra. Awesome.

I took a sip of the coffee, contemplating the night. I hadn't slept well. Apparently, despite this, I'd somehow slept through the alarm to medicate Lester. Then, I awake to a stealthy, probably-ninja cat attempting to suffocate me, which is evidently some outward display of cat-affection. Next, I discover my formerly locked bedroom door is not only unlocked, but the door is wide-open. Oh, and Lester had woken up and let me sleep in; and as soon as I woke, he brought me coffee, which he presumably made.

Not to mention, the coffee was actually quite good, and just how I like it: heavily creamed and sugared. I set the coffee down, thoroughly confused. Maybe I'm in the Twilight Zone, I rationalized.

Oh, fuck it, I'm taking a shower. Maybe it'll help clear my head.

….

Forty-five minutes later, I'd showered, done my hair, dressed in a pair of medium-wash blue jeans and a black t-shirt, and made my way down the stairs. I heard some Latin music lightly playing, and it sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. I was right.

Lester was sitting at the mini breakfast bar, eating some cereal. "Morning, Stephanie," he said, glancing up from the newspaper.

He looked pretty great this morning. He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a light blue t-shirt from a Trenton pub. His hair was slightly mussed from sleep, and he was barefoot. His face had that dangerous edge to it, from a days' growth of facial hair.

I noticed he's been using my name a lot more lately. While it still wasn't _Beautiful_, it's not Princess either, so I decided that it was progress. "Morning, Lester," I said, a bit hesitant, not sure of the protocol after someone has just accidentally seen you naked.

As if hearing my thoughts, Lester smiled his full smile. "Nothing I've never seen before."

Oh, God. Just kill me now. Of course I'd said that out loud. I groaned.

He sobered some, gesturing to the cabinet nearest me. "Would you like some cereal Steph? I'm sorry, but I'm not really up to frying donuts just yet," he joked.

"Oh, God, Lester! Why didn't you wake me? I feel terrible. Are you in any pain? Did you sleep ok?" I rambled. I poured myself a bowl of Lucky Charms, added a splash of milk, and sat on the stool next to him, joining him at the breakfast bar.

"One question at a time," he requested, and then took a deep breath. "I'm in very little pain. I didn't wake you, because you didn't sleep well last night." He gave me a searching look. "At about midnight, you started mumbling in your sleep, and it got progressively louder. By the time I got your door unlocked, you were pretty upset," he met my gaze, a serious look on his face. He continued, "I finally got you calmed down after about 20 minutes. Afterwards, I went back to my room and fell asleep.

A little over an hour later, it started again. I went to your room, unlocked the door, though this time I managed to get you calmed down a bit quicker. I didn't know you had nightmares, Steph." He said.

I looked at him, surprised. "I had no idea, Les. I'm sorry I woke you. I don't remember them."

"It's ok. I was just a bit concerned. You fought me some, Steph," he said. _Oh God, I hope I didn't hurt him! _I worried. "I'm fine," he said, accurately reading the look on my face. "Anyway, after the second time, it was clear you weren't really sleeping, so I shut off your alarm. It was close to time for my next dose anyway, so I just took it and went to bed." He paused, as if unsure of what to say next.

"You woke a third time, about two and a half hours later. Finally, I called Bobby. He suggested I give you some Benadryl, see if it helped you stay asleep. I got you to wake up enough to take it, then laid with you until you fell asleep."

"Jesus, Lester. You're recovering from a stab wound. I should be taking care of you, not the other way around. Maybe we should get someone else-"

He placed his finger to my lips, effectively shushing me. "Nonsense, Stephanie. I'm fine. Anyway, you fell back asleep, and managed to stay asleep. You woke when you mistakenly took my cat for an intruder," he smirked.

I was absolutely stunned - I had no memory of the night at all. Maybe it was the medication? I wondered. I wracked my brain and came up with nothing. Maybe it was just the stress of the past few days. "Thanks, Lester, for being there for me. I still feel awful, though. I'm supposed to be here to take care of you."

Les was so quiet for so long, I wondered if he'd heard me. Finally, he spoke; "I didn't mind," he whispered. "It was sort-of nice to help you through it."

My heart clenched at his admission. Oh, boy. If I wasn't careful, I was seriously going to fall for this guy. I avoided his gaze, fixating on the pattern in the hardwood floors, instead.

….

While Stephanie stared at the dust bunnies living on my floors, I grabbed our cereal bowls, rinsed them, and set them in the sink. I was beyond exhausted, between my recovery and lack of sleep, but I'd never let her know it. She felt guilty enough as it was.

Why did I have to go and say that, anyway? I wondered. _It was sort-of nice to help you through it._ I mocked myself. Clearly, it had made her uncomfortable, and she obviously only thought of me only as a friend. I can't let her know I've gone and fallen in love with her.

Wait, what?

Lester Santos, playboy, ex-special forces, badass Latino man is in love with a curly-haired white girl from the Burg?

I took a moment to mull it over. Yeah. I guess I am. And the thought terrified me, even more than last night had.

I remembered the fear I'd felt the first time I'd woken to her cries. For a moment, I'd worried that, somehow, she'd attracted a new crazy that had found her here. I shook my head. That would be nearly impossible, I reminded myself. Especially since this house was in no way traceable to me - standard procedure for the Rangeman core team.

She'd looked so broken, so terrified, in her sleep. I hadn't been able to actually wake her, so I'd finally just crawled in bed with her and held her. And, Lord, how she'd felt in my arms… it had been equal parts heaven and hell.

I'd felt guilty drugging her, but I'd felt so helpless watching her thrash around, crying and mumbling in her sleep.

By that third time, I think I'd gotten a pretty good idea of what was going on, and despite what I'd told her, I'd held her until 9:00 this morning, skipping my 6am dose of my pain meds. But Steph had been more important, and I hadn't been able to make myself let her go.

And then this morning, seeing her clad only in her bra and panties had nearly been my undoing. I stifled a groan.

Having run out of things to clean, I turned around, glancing at Stephanie. "It's a nice day and the temp should actually hit mid-50s. Want to head out back on the porch swing?"

Steph looked up, a shocked look on her face. "Porch swing?" she asked.

I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. She was turning into a parrot. "Yes, porch swing. I have a sweatshirt you could wear," I offered.

She nodded her head, "Sure, but I'll grab it. Where is it?" she asked, clearly wanting to fulfill her role as helpful nurse.

"It's in the closet in the foyer. There are several in there. Grab two; one for each of us." I replied, adding, "Please."

That earned a smile, at least. Before I knew it, she was back in the kitchen, handing me a blue hooded sweatshirt. She was already wearing my black Rangeman hoodie. She caught my curious look.

"Well, I always see you in black, so I thought the blue would be a nice change," she admitted, a sheepish grin on her face.

I smiled back. She did look awfully good in my Rangeman hoodie. Without a reply, we made our way into the backyard, settling in the swing. The trees were all still bare, save for the evergreens, but it was still a gorgeous view. It's partly why I had bought the place.

"It's starting to smell like spring," she said.

"Shhh! Don't jinx it, Steph," I chastised her. "You should know better. We'll be stuck in winter for months."

She offered me a 100% pure Burg eye roll. "It's just an observation."

I think she may have just scooted closer to me, but I can't really be sure. We were nearly touching. We sat like that for a while, relaxing, quiet. How long, I'm not really sure.

Sighing, she laid her head on my shoulder.

I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of her so close to me. My heart ached for what probably would never be. I, badass Lester Santos, was terrified to move; fearful of breaking the spell she had over me.

"This is nice," she offered.

"Yeah, I agree," I replied, my voice a little low.

I enjoyed her next to me, but I couldn't stay idle for long. My mind was reeling, taking quick inventory of every conversation we'd ever had. Something was going on with her, and I was pretty sure I knew what it was. I needed to hear it from her, wanted to help her through it.

That was such a new sensation for me. Not knowing was driving me crazy, but I knew that bringing it up would upset her. I tensed, weighing my options.

She reached for my hand, settling it on her thigh. "Why'd you get so tense all of a sudden? Can I get you something?" she asked.

Christ. I took a deep breath. "No, Stephanie. Thanks, but I'm fine".

I waited a couple of minutes. "Actually, I do have a question," I said.

"Anything, Lester," was her quiet reply.

"Who is Shawn?" I asked.


	10. Chapter 8

Yay! I had time for another chapter this week!

Thank you all for your sweet encouragement! I love to receive your feedback, and it surely keeps me motivated to write.

Standard disclaimers apply: They're not mine!

….

_Previously:_

_Christ. I took a deep breath. "No, Stephanie. Thanks, but I'm fine. But I do have a question?"_

"_Anything, Lester," was her quiet reply. _

"_Who is Shawn?" I asked._

….

(SPOV)

I could not have been more shocked had Lester just backhanded me. My pulse quickened, and I felt the panic hidden within me begin to claw at the surface. I hadn't consciously thought that man's name in many, many years. Even during my sessions with Dr. Ahrens, I'd been careful not to think or speak his name.

I was engulfed in an emotional storm. Fear, dread, repulsion, frustration, shame, and sadness settled all around me.

It wasn't until Lester gently pushed my head between my knees that I realized I was beginning to hyperventilate. Black dots swirled my vision and tears were threatening. _I am really not ready for this_, I thought to myself.

"Stephanie?" Lester asked quietly. "Honey, you can talk to me. It's ok," he said, attempting to assure me. He tried to calm me, tenderly running his fingers through my hair.

I concentrated on the feelings his long, graceful fingers were evoking, and gradually felt my breathing begin to return to normal. When I'd recovered enough to speak, I asked him, at nearly a whisper, "How?" I cleared my throat, "How do you know about Shawn?"

"Last night, when you were dreaming. You were mumbling mostly, but you definitely said his name, several times," he explained, a sad expression on his face. "You seemed frightened of him."

"What do you know, Lester?" I wondered, wishing he'd spit it out. He obviously realized more than he was letting on.

"I have my suspicions, Stephanie, but I'd like to hear it from you, when you're comfortable enough to talk about it."

I sighed, not sure how I felt about discussing anything with anybody, much less Lester. He's probably my friend, but this is something I've practiced keeping to myself for a very long time.

I sighed, fraught with indecision. I got up and began to pace his expansive backyard. I began to shiver; whether it was from the relatively cool, damp air or from those awful memories, I'm not sure. Lester patiently waited on the swing, never once taking his eyes off me. He wore a pained expression, as if he was second-guessing his query.

Maybe it's time to confide in someone. Surely he isn't likely to let this go, anyway.

I took a steadying breath, and said finally, "I've been seeing a psychiatrist for awhile now." I began fidgeting. "I started seeing Dr. Ahrens around the same time I made the decision to come to Rangeman full-time."

Lester nodded, encouraging me, "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Stephanie. I've seen one myself, when I suffered from PTSD after a particularly FUBAR'd mission. Please, go on."

I stared off at the tree line, unable to make eye contact with him. I fixated on an old, abandoned birds nest. Truth is, I really wasn't sure where to start. I decided to begin with Princeton and MJ, "I was in college. It was my sophomore year and I'd been dating a guy, MJ, for about a year. We were pretty close, nearly inseparable. We were both in Princeton's IS program."

Les looked at me, a puzzled look on his face, "I thought you graduated with a degree in business administration from Montclair State?"

"I'm getting there," I bit off.

He flinched. "Sorry, please continue."

I continued on with my story, leaving out the more intimate parts of our relationship, of course. I told him about my decision to attend MJ's cousin, Shawn's get-together, explaining my confusion, as naively, I hadn't expected an all-out frat party that evening. "I'd drunk several beers that night. That's not something I did then. Hell, it's not really something I do now. After just a few beers, I was pretty tipsy, and I ended up sleeping with Shawn."

Lester was even more confused, "But that's hardly something that you should feel guilt over, after all this time." He'd clearly (and correctly) thought there was more to it.

"I'm not finished, Lester," I said, my voice again at a whisper. Tears welled in my eyes. "I'd slept with him three times, Les. I'd cheated on MJ three times, all in one night. I'd felt horrible. I still do. You know, I'd really thought MJ was the one." I paused, brushing my tears away in a futile attempt to get my emotions under control. "As soon as I'd realized what I'd done, as soon as I'd finally come to my senses, they'd entered the room." Lester sucked in a quick breath. I closed my eyes, tears flowing freely once again. Lester stood and walked over to me, grabbing my hands, attempting to soothe me. I bit off a dry, sardonic laugh. As if that could comfort me, take away the pain.

"There were six of them, Les. At least I'm pretty sure there were six, as I never saw them. Can you imagine? I was raped, sodomized, by SIX MEN, and I couldn't even tell you what they look like." I shook my head.

"Fucking Christ!" Lester exclaimed, clearly caught off-guard by my admission. He gently drew me to him, holding me firm against his chest. He gently ran his hands along my spine, gently swaying back and forth. Who he was trying to comfort at this point, him or me, I wasn't entirely certain anymore.

"I'd been tied up, placed on my knees. And if that wasn't bad enough? Afterwards, I'd been left on a bench in the courtyard.

Some time later, I'd discovered that apparently, Shawn told MJ that I'd thrown myself at him, and seduced him. MJ never spoke to me again. I lost both my first love and my innocence that night." I paused, reflecting. "A couple of months later, I confirmed I was pregnant. I carried the baby to term, and then I just gave him away. I gave my baby boy away to strangers, as if I didn't have a care in the world." I began to sob uncontrollably. Lester started whispering words of comfort to me, but I was too far gone to understand any of them.

"I gave away my baby, Les. He'll never know how much I loved him. If it weren't for him-" I stopped, overcome with emotion and unable to complete the sentence.

"If it weren't for him, I'm not sure I'd be here today," I finished.

Lester drew back just a fraction to look at me. He met my watery gaze, silently encouraging me to explain my statement.

"He's the reason I'd been able to put one foot in front of the other. He was the reason I'd let myself live." I finished. He pulled me even closer to him, seeming desperate for more contact.

"Oh, Steph, I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say; how to help," Lester admitted, placing several gentle kisses on the top of my head.

"That's just it, Les. You can't." I quietly replied. "I can't. I fucked up."

"This is in no way your fault, I really hope you realize that."

"Of course it's my fault. Had I not gone to Shawn's that night, had I stayed home and studied as I usually would, it would have never happened," I cried.

"Your not to blame for wanting to connect with your boyfriend's cousin. You were lonely. Your boyfriend was away, and he'd wanted Shawn to look out for you. Further, you trusted Shawn. He's to blame; his friends are to blame. Not you. Not in the slightest."

I continued my argument, "Had I stayed home, I'd never been raped, never would have hurt MJ, and never would have created a life just to pawn it off for someone else to raise." He just didn't understand my point.

"Steph, MJ was hurt by his own cousin, not by you. Have you considered that you may have been drugged that night? Had MJ bothered to actually discuss this with you, he'd never have lost you. And as for your son-"

I held up my hand, stopping him in his tracks. "He's not my son, Les. He stopped being my son the moment I placed him in his mother's arms."

"I disagree, Steph. You provided him with _life_. You kept him safe and carried him for nine long months, despite the horrific circumstances behind his creation. He grew, inside of you." He softly placed his hand on my stomach. "You sacrificed for him. You found him a forever home. You might not be his _parent_, but you'll always be his mother."

At that, I completely fell apart. Damn Les. He grabbed my hands and pulled me gently toward the porch swing, where we sat again. He put an arm around me, holding me to his side, and ran his gentle, calloused hands up and down my arms. His actions were patient, unhurried, as I confronted the swirling storm of emotions that surrounded me.

I pulled myself together and I finally managed to croak out, "I appreciate what you're doing, Les. But I can't really afford to think of him that way, it just hurts too much."

He nodded his head, understanding. "So, may I ask, who knows?" He asked.

"About the rape? About my son? Just Dr. Ahrens. And now, you."

"What?" he asked, an incredulous look on his face. "All these years, Stephanie, and you haven't confided in anyone? Not your parents? Mary Lou? Ranger?"

"No. I was far too ashamed. My mom hadn't wanted me to go to Princeton in the first place – that wasn't where good little Burg girls went to school. As for Mary Lou, we were in an awkward phase in our friendship. She was nearly finished with her associate's degree at the community college, and had just recently gotten engaged to Lenny. I didn't want to burden her." I explained how I ended up in the church. "I think the priest suspected, but I never confirmed it.

"And Ranger? Well, he and I don't really do _personal_."

"Oh, Steph," he said, pain evident in his voice. "Why didn't you press charges?"

"And say what? What happened with Shawn would have been ruled consensual. Yes, I may have been drugged, Dr. Ahrens made me see that, but there's no evidence of that. And what would I have said about the others? Hello, officer, I was just raped by six men, at least I think there were six of them, but I don't know what they look like? I'd have been laughed out of the police station, especially back in those times."

Les slowly shook his head. "It's not fair," he said, a saddened expression on his face.

I snorted. "No, it's not fair. But no one said life was fair." We were quiet again, both lost in our own thoughts.

"You know, Les? I don't know what they look like or who they were, but to this day, I still hear their voices," I said, my voice a whisper. I extricated myself from Lester's arms and stood.

Lester rose, clearly intending to follow me. "Les, if you don't mind, I think that I need some time alone. Please."

A flicker of pain crossed his features, but he immediately replaced it with his blank face. "Sure, Steph, take all the time you need." He walked over and kissed my cheek, and then turned for the house.

I walked along the cobblestone path, alone.

…

(LPOV)

Holy shit.

I'd pieced together that she'd likely been raped, but _this_?

This was beyond anything I had imagined. Nausea rolled through me as I considered her words. _Six men? _Mark my words, I am going to find those men, and I'm going to slaughter them. I'll tear them limb from miserable fucking limb.

I don't ordinarily relish in death, but in this case, it'll be handled with abundant pleasure.

How someone could hurt someone so innocent, so pure, so perfect, is beyond my comprehension. And that MJ? He's a total goddamn lunatic. How on earth could he have let her go?

On that note, how could Morelli let her go? Hell, how did Ranger? It's like the woman slips in and leaves a mark on your heart, branding you as hers. And the most beautiful thing about it is that I don't even think she realizes she does it.

But if she agreed to be mine, would I be strong enough to let her go? Even if it were best for her, or if things weren't working? I don't know. It's partially why I've kept my distance from her. Ranger claims he "_doesn't do_" relationships. I get it; he's married to his job, essentially. But how he can look her in those sad, blue eyes and tell her that, I'd never know.

But in contrast, I "_haven't done_" relationships with women. None. Not a single one. I'm an only child, and I don't even know my own mother. She died when I was born. I have just one picture of her, and it's on my desk in my office.

I felt a new surge of fury at the situation, thinking of Steph's son who will never know his birth mom. I began to pace my living room as my frustration grew. My mind was racing, finally settling on a plan of action. I'll start with hunting down MJ and Shawn, and make them give me the answers I'll need. Then I'll hunt down the others, one by one. If MJ and Shawn "can't remember" who those men were, then I'll pull frat records from the time period and systematically question each and every one of those pricks.

Planning has always helped me focus my energy. Military strategy is what I was essentially bred for, after all.

I collapsed on the couch, defeated. I hung my head, running my fingers through my short hair in annoyance. Just as much as I knew I needed to kill those men, I knew Stephanie wouldn't allow it. I groaned as an unfamiliar ache settled in my chest. How was I going to help her through this?

I flashed back to the events from our last distraction. I saw the fear and panic in her eyes as Maddie had held her against the wall. Stephanie was usually so calm when things went a bit FUBAR that her reaction had been so unexpected then. _But it's so completely understood now_. God, how on earth has she managed to carry out so many distractions for us? How was she able to face rapists so seemingly easily? _Because she was getting them off the streets, that's why. She was protecting other potential victims. _The rational part of my mind finally kicked in, joining the circus that was currently parading around my head.

God, maybe it's the pain meds that have me so confused. I mean, hell - she'd nearly admitted it in the hospital, when she'd panicked at my bedside. I'd been so out of it, so shocked by her emotional outburst that I'd ignored it at the time, thinking she was just in some sort of shock. _God, how could I have been so clueless?_

I feel like I've let her down for not recognizing the signs sooner.

I glanced at the clock. It was nearly 1pm. I'd give her another hour to herself, and then I was going to find her. I can't let her down again.

For now, I'd have to make do with keeping myself busy to keep my mind off it. I'll start by checking in with the office, and then I'll head to the kitchen and make us a late lunch.

….

(SPOV)

I'm not sure how long I've been walking, but I've finally settled on a wrought-iron bench near an adorable, tiny little pond. It was so peaceful; I couldn't help but understand why Lester bought this place. I don't know much about his past, but it was seemingly so opposite of military life that it would fit. I could picture myself here, fishing pole in hand, relaxing after a long, hard week of cleaning up Trenton's streets.

I laughed to myself. As if. This was Lester's home – not mine. I'd do well to remember that.

But at least I could enjoy it while I was here, I reminded myself. Maybe later, after making sure Lester was settled, I could go for a run around the area.

_Lester_. He was so kind earlier. It was a side of him I hadn't really seen before. I've met Silly Lester, Playboy Lester, Scary Lester and Rude Lester before. But I'd never seen _Sweet Lester_ before. One of these days, I'd figure him out, I promised myself.

But he'd been such a great listener and he hadn't pushed. He'd just hugged me and listened, trying to soothe me.

Morelli would have screamed at me for going to the party, blaming me. Then, he'd have taken pity on me, "accepting" my past. Ranger would have sat me down and made me provide him with the essential details, then left to hunt them down. Perhaps he'd have sent a Merry Man or two to stand sentry at my door.

Lester had just held me, and he'd absorbed some of my pain.

Then, he'd given me the space I'd so desperately needed.

I wonder where Shawn is, today? Is he a doctor, practicing medicine like he'd planned? Is he still in New Jersey, or did he relocate for medical school? What is his specialty? I allowed myself to consider all those questions that I'd forced myself to avoid for so long.

Though I'd never been able to banish them completely, I reminded myself; I've always cringed at the thought of going to the hospital, afraid to see his face. I've always preferred Bobby's skilled hands, despite the lack of "proper equipment".

Perhaps I should run a simple search when I returned to Lester's. I'm sure he'd let me use his office. Somehow, I'd managed to forget to grab my laptop from my desk at Rangeman before we'd left. I'll have to stop by and pick it up it on Friday after Lester's appointment.

If I got a location on him, maybe I could breathe a little easier. I relaxed a bit at the thought. Yeah, I'll definitely look him up. _And if he's in Jersey? _The scared, 21-year-old me asked. Well, if he's in Jersey, then I'll figure out what to do with that information later.

After the emotional war I'd battled this morning, I felt completely drained. I yawned, relaxed into the bench, and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

….

(LPOV)

It was after 2:00, so I forced myself to look for Steph. I hated to interrupt her private thoughts, but the need to reassure myself that she was OK had won out over rational thought. I began by following the cobblestone path in the direction I'd watched her leave in. The winding path was nearly a quarter-mile long, and essentially came full circle.

Bobby would probably have my ass for being so active so soon, but it actually felt pretty good, despite the dull throbbing in my chest. The fresh air was nice; though, it looked like a storm might be brewing.

I chastised myself a bit for not being more aware of the weather forecast.

I focused on my surroundings, and was overwhelmed with a sense of peace as I took them in. This was the exact reason I'd purchased this place. After a lifetime of militant living, I'd finally found a place I could consider relaxing and being myself. Here, I wasn't Major Lester Miguel Santos, US Army or Lester Santos, silent partner and CEO of Rangeman, LLC. Here, I was just simply Lester.

I rounded the corner and the sight before me was absolutely breathtaking. Stephanie was settled on one of the park benches, curled up, sound asleep, at the edge of my pond. Her hair was caught up in the light breeze, and she looked like some sort of angel. She slumbered through my approach and I sat next to her, taking her in.

I was surprised by how peaceful she looked. I'd been worried that I might have ruined that for her by bringing up her past so unexpectedly. Instead, she actually looked a bit lighter for the moment. I reached out and caressed her cheek. She turned her face into my hand, encouraging me in her sleep.

I wonder if she realizes it's me?

A small smile played at her lips. "Lester?" she asked, voice heavy with sleep; her eyes still closed.

I smiled, feeling a completely irrational sense of happiness flood through me. That answered my question. "Yeah, Steph, it's me. The temperature is starting to drop and it's starting to look a bit overcast – I thought maybe we should get you inside?" I asked.

She stretched, like a cat, arching her back. I caught a peek of her taut, cream-colored stomach and I felt a pang of lust surge through my body. At that, I felt unbelievably guilty after all she shared this morning.

She wore a sleepy little smile, "The theme continues. You seem to be taking care of me more than I'm taking care of you."

Offered her my hand, helping her up off the bench. I joked, "Well, you never promised me that you'd actually be effective."

She lightly swatted my arm. "I promise to be a better nurse, Lester. I'm sorry for last night and today. I don't know if it's just the unfamiliar surroundings, but I really haven't had nightmares like that in some time, and I've always remembered them before."

We made our way toward the house. "Really, Steph. I think the point of you being here is to make sure I don't overdo it, make sure I'm medicated, be my chauffer, and force me to rest if I get any dizzy spells. Basically, you're my glorified babysitter."

Her stomach let loose a snarl. It's amusing – her empty stomach was so loud that I'd nearly flinched. "I've got lunch ready Steph, just a few more yards until we can feed the beast."

"Les! You shouldn't have to make lunch. I'm sure I could handle making a simple sandwich."

"No way. If any of those stories that I've heard are true, you will not be stepping foot in my kitchen!"

"The barbeque wasn't my fault!" she exclaimed, exasperated.

I laughed, God, how this woman could make me laugh. "Noted," was my only reply as we made our way to the breakfast bar and ate our lunch.

….

(SPOV)

After lunch, I'd guilted Lester into taking some pain meds and having a short nap. I quietly entered his office, careful not to wake him, and checked the weather forecast online. It looked like we were in for a late-season snowstorm; we could expect upwards of 8-12 inches of snow overnight.

Les wasn't kidding - I'd really jinxed us. I just hope the man owns a shovel. My search on Shawn would have to wait. Instead, I made quick work of tidying up the kitchen and making a list of supplies we needed from the store. I figure stocking up on the essentials, along with candles and batteries might be a good call.

I scribbled him a quick note, letting him know I was running to the store and to call me if he needed anything. I searched around and found his car keys, and I made my way to the attached garage (obviously another addition!). I said a silent prayer that his car had GPS, as I had no idea where I was.

I immediately began salivating as my eyes settled on his vehicle. Of course, he'd have a badass truck – I should have predicted that. I stared in shock at the enormous Ford F-450 Lariat sitting in front of me, in all its gleaming white and chrome glory.

It was a very pretty truck.

Hopefully, I won't blow it up.

Well, at least the 4-wheel drive will come in handy with all this snow, I assured myself. I opened the garage door and beeped the car open, hopping in.

Holy hell - this fucking thing was loaded. I wasn't exactly sure what most of the buttons and gadgets were for, but I surely recognized the GPS unit and the gearshift. Good enough for me. I turned the key and the truck roared to life; I _really_ enjoyed the deep rumble of the diesel engine. _God this was a sexy truck_. I may have just ruined my panties.

I surfed the GPS unit until I found the closest supermarket – only 1.2 miles away. Perfect. I adjusted the power mirrors, buckled my safety belt and put the truck in gear. I was on my merry way.

….

(LPOV)

As I woke, a feeling of unease settled over me. The house was too quiet. Mindful of my injury, I slowly sat up in bed and discovered a note on my end table. I reached for it, noticing Steph's rushed handwriting.

Lester,

Looks like you were right. We're in for a hell of a snowstorm. I took the liberty of making a list of things we may need for the next couple of days, in case we get snowed in. I'm going to head to the grocery store. Please call if you need anything. I'll be back soon.

-Steph

_Please don't blow up my truck. Please don't blow up my truck_. I repeated to myself. It's brand new, special order, and has less than 1,000 miles on it. And God, if it blew when she was in it – I couldn't bear the thought. I got up, headed into my office, and pulled up the GPS tracker on my laptop. I sighed in relief. She was parked at the Superfresh on Bridge Street.

I sent her a text message, hoping she was ok: _Looks you made it there in one piece?_

She almost instantly replied, _I don't know if I should be impressed or ticked off. I've only been gone for thirty minutes, and already you've woken and tracked my location._

Tell me about it – I didn't know what to do with the overprotective urges I felt toward her. I joked: _New truck. Can't help but be concerned about my baby in your presence. _

She responded,_ Har har. Don't worry. Front fenders are easy to replace, right? _

My heart raced. She'd better be kidding_, Stephanie Michelle Plum, both you and my truck had better be in one piece!_

_Really, Lester. You're too easy. We're both fine. Now, nap or do something productive and stop bugging me so I can shop! _

_Yes, ma'am. Hurry home. _I sent the text.

_I'm nearly finished, already. Should I pick up some dinner on my way back?_

_Sure. You'll find a Chinese place on Main or an Italian deli on Holton. You can choose._

_Perfect. See you soon. _

Satisfied that she'd be home soon, I busied myself by catching up on e-mail, then put in a call to Bobby.

"Yo!" he answered.

"Hey, Brown. How's our new recruit?"

"Lookin' good, bro. So far he's passed all our qualifications. I think he'll be a good fit. How ya feeling?"

"I'm alright. In some pain, but I'll survive."

"Any lightheadedness?" he wondered, taking a serious tone.

"Nah, not really. I've had a couple of minor episodes, but each time I've recovered quickly."

"How's Steph?"

I paused, unsure of how to answer. I wasn't going to betray her trust, but at the same time, I didn't want to lie. "She's settling in. Not too stir crazy yet," I replied, deliberately vague.

"Good, good. I spoke with Tank earlier. We'll probably send her a couple of electronic search requests tomorrow. Hopefully it'll keep her busy."

"Sounds good – I'm sure she'll appreciate it. Anything else new?"

"Not much. Ranger made his final check-in this week. Tank spoke with him briefly this morning. He's on track to complete his objective much sooner than anticipated. If all continues to plan, extraction is one week from today."

I was relieved. Ranger was Rangeman, and we operated best with our commander and COO at the helm. "10-4." I replied out of habit. "Steph and I will probably stop in on Friday after my appointment so she can grab her laptop. Maybe we can round up the guys for lunch?"

"Shorty's it is. See you then." At that, we both disconnected.

It was perfect timing; I heard the rumble of my truck as it pulled into the driveway. I met her in the kitchen and helped her put away the groceries. We settled into our already-usual seats at the breakfast bar and enjoyed our take-out. She'd chosen Italian for dinner, of course.

I couldn't help but notice that the whole scene was bizarrely domestic.

….

(SPOV)

Lester and I had spent the rest of the day watching movies, curled up comfortably on the couch. We didn't exactly snuggle or anything, don't go crazy with assumptions, but we had been _close_. After an initial disagreement on what to watch, we'd compromised on each choosing one movie; he'd picked Top Gun and I'd chosen Pretty Woman, my favorite. Thank God for Netflix, or I'd have been stuck watching nothing but your typical shoot 'em up bad guy movies.

Lester had groaned with my choice, but was a good sport about it. He didn't even mock it much while we watched. Les had seemed exhausted and went to bed shortly after it ended.

Now it was getting late, and I made my final checks around the first floor of Lester's place, ensuring all of the lights were off before heading to bed. I dropped a grape into Rex's cage, feeling guilty that I hadn't spent much time with him over the past week. I lightly tapped on his cage. "Hey, buddy. Sorry I've been MIA. Life has been a little crazy lately."

Rex peeked his head out of his little can, and he twitched his whiskers. I translated that to mean I was forgiven.

My guilt assuaged, I made my way into Lester's office, checking the forecast for probably the tenth time today. I don't know why a silly little snowstorm was making me nervous, but it was. It looked like the snow would start to fall around 3am. With my luck, we'll probably be stuck indoors for much of tomorrow. With a sigh, I shut down his laptop. I really hated being cooped up.

I heard a mewing from the door. Lester's cat had been waiting patiently, watching me. I stood, intending to check on Lester one final time before turning in. His cat's penetrating gaze followed my every movement. Geesh, it seemed even his frigging cat was a natural at surveillance. It was a little unnerving.

I tiptoed into Lester's room, hoping he was still sleeping. He had been in a fair amount of pain this evening, and had looked a little pale. I think he overdid it today, and I'm sure my breakdown sure didn't help matters.

He'd apparently fallen asleep reading, as a book was splayed across his lap. He looked so at peace while he dozed, as though he no longer carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. I leaned over him, gently removing the book from his grasp. I had to stifle a sardonic sigh. He was reading, "Shooter: The Autobiography of the Top-Ranked Marine Sniper".

I mean, seriously?

Shaking my head, I placed the book on his end table and switched off the bedside lamp. He looked so sweet and vulnerable that I had the unmistakable urge to climb in bed and snuggle with him. Instead, I placed a quick kiss on his forehead and ran my fingers through his soft, glossy black hair. He was going to need a haircut, and soon.

I softly padded down the hall into my bedroom, and readied myself for bed. I removed my makeup, brushed my teeth, and dressed in my pink satin tank and boy short combo pajamas. I moseyed on over to my bedside table, setting my alarm once again so I could dose Lester at 2am. This time, I didn't bother locking the door. A lock on the door probably wasn't going to keep my demons at bay.

I climbed into bed, the cat not far behind me. He jumped up and settled at the foot of the bed. He? She? I'm not actually sure. I don't even know its name. My last conscious thought I had was that Lester's cat seemed to be just as protective as his master.

….

Three hours later, my alarm clock tore me from my sleep. I grumbled and stretched, not really wanting to leave the warmth of the bed. _Stupid fucking skips and their stupid fucking knives. _

"Hey, I resent that statement," mumbled a very sleepy-sounding Lester.

I sat up with a start.

"Are you going to shut that damn alarm off, Steph?" he continued, moving his pillow over his head.

I reached over and shut it off, rising to get Lester's pain meds. "What the hell are you doing in my bed?" I asked him.

"Technically, it's my bed. My house, my bed," he muttered.

I stood there, dumb, too tired to find a witty comeback. He looked really yummy, sprawled out over the covers.

"You had another nightmare, Steph. I tried to wake you, but again, I couldn't. You're pretty combative in your dreams," he admitted. "So, I went with what worked yesterday, I climbed in and held you until you settled. Only this time, I fell asleep, too. Must be the pain meds. Or maybe you're too cuddly. Could go either way," he finished, speech slightly slurred in his exhaustion.

I didn't know how to reply to that. I think the cumulative loss of sleep this week has seriously depleted my brain cells. I had no idea how to handle playful, sleepy Lester. Especially when he was laying atop my bed, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. This man had one fine body. He was a bit smaller than Ranger, less bulky, but equally defined. He had a delicious 6-pack and a light dusting of a treasure trail, leading to the promise land. I licked my lips as I fought a tremendous desire to follow the trail with my tongue, all the way to Lester's happy place.

I wonder what he'd taste like?

I'm in some deep shit here; I've somehow become inexplicably attracted to this sweet, adorable man. I felt my entire body begin to hum; my boy shorts dampened and my nipples formed pointed peaks under my satin tank. A moan escaped my lips before I could halt it.

"Steph?" Lester asked, his heavy-lidded eyes meeting mine, obviously having removed his pillow. I was never good at masking my thoughts, and I knew the exact second that he realized _precisely_ what I'd been thinking. His pupils began to dilate, and his little soldier most definitely began to stand at attention.

"Uh… I… I'll go grab your meds," I said, finally finding my voice.

I returned a few minutes later with his medication and a bottle of water.

"Thanks. You know, I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Steph," he offered.

"You didn't. You aren't. I was just surprised to find you in here, is all," I fibbed.

He gave me a piercing look as I climbed back into bed. I'm pretty sure he didn't believe me. He started to sit up, grimacing slightly. "I should get back to bed," he said.

"At this point, wouldn't that be just a little bit silly?" I asked him.

"Explain," he demanded.

I shrugged my shoulders. I replied, my voice a bit uncertain, "Well, at this point, it would seem likely that I'll just have another nightmare. Not to mention, in four hours, I'll just wake up to medicate you again. We're both adults here; I'm sure we can handle sleeping in the same bed. And apparently, I'm sleeping better when you're with me, anyway. Maybe you should just stay, and we'll both get more rest?"

He nodded his head in agreement; "I'm ok with it if you are."

I set my alarm again, this time for 6am. "OK, I'll wake you for your next dose at 6. Tomorrow, I'll call Dr. Ahrens. Maybe he can meet with me or prescribe me some sort of sleep aid to help with the nightmares in the future," I suggested.

"No worries, Stephanie. I assure you, being in your bed is no hardship," he replied, winking, effectively lightening the mood.

I rolled my eyes and chuckled. "I'd be flattered, but your reputation precedes you." I gestured for him to get up.

"Kicking me out already?" he wondered, a confused look on his face.

"No, tempting as that thought might be. I just figured you'd be a bit warmer if you slept under the covers this time."

He smirked, waggling his eyebrows at me, "Are you offering to assist me in generating some body heat?" he asked, offering me his trademark, panty-melting smile as he climbed back into the queen-sized bed. This time, his delicious body slid under the covers. Heaven help me. I really needed to get my libido in check.

I smacked him on the side of his head for his comment. "Just get some sleep, Les," I commanded, exasperated.

We both settled in under the covers, him, on the side nearest the door. I was settled on his left side, closest to the alarm clock. I'd purposely left a few inches between us.

He carefully rolled to his left side, grabbed me by my hip, and pulled me close to him; his movements measured to avoid reinjuring himself. He settled on his back again, placing my head on his chest. "There we go," he said on a yawn.

I offered him a quizzical look. He shrugged and replied, "It's how you slept best last night." I nodded.

With a contented sigh, I snuggled into him, my left hand automatically reaching out to join his right, as it had done in the hospital. His other hand buried itself in my hair, softly caressing me. "G'nite, Les," I whispered, already on the verge of sleep.

"Goodnight, Beautiful," he replied, placing a lingering kiss to the top of my head.

Feeling a sweet contentment in his arms, I let myself drift off into oblivion.

….


End file.
